Jennie Goutet's Blog: A Lady in France, page 13

Recipe for Quail with Lemon Tagliatelle

This recipe for quail with lemon tagliatelle is more easy than you might think such an exotic dish has any right to be. It looks intimidating because they’re such little birds, aren’t they? And they sort of take a praying position in the pan, which makes photographing them rather tricky if you want people to actually want to eat quail. Ahem.

Quail is called “cailles” in French. (pronounced kye with an accent on the y sound).

The recipe is for four people, with 2 quail each, but I found one quail to be enough so it depends on your appetite. I translated the quail recipe from here, and the tagliatelle recipe from here.

For the quail, melt 3.5 tablespoons (50 grams) of butter and 4 Tablespoons of honey in a sauce pan over low heat. Take it off the heat and add 2 heaping tablespoons of Dijon mustard. Before you apply the marinade, salt and pepper the quail.

The use a brush to apply the marinade on the quail. Cover it and let sit for 2 hours, or overnight in the refrigerator. If you’re in a pinch you can skip this step.

When you’re ready to cook, pre-heat the oven to 415°F (210°C). Put them in the oven – covered with aluminum foil for 25 minutes, then remove the foil and re-apply the sauce from the bottom of the pan. They go back into the oven for another 25-30 minutes.

When there’s still about 30 minutes to go in the oven, begin your preparation for the tagliatelle. Finely chop 3 fresh sage leaves (or you can use a scant teaspoon of dried). And zest one lemon.

Put the minced sage and lemon zest, plus 1/2 cup (125 grams) of heavy cream and 3 tablespoons of parmesan, in the blender and mix.

Boil salted water for the tagliatelle – you won’t be adding more salt to the pasta since the parmesan is salty enough. I followed the directions for cooking my gluten-free variety of tagliatelle, but other varieties often take between 4-6 minutes. It should say on the package.

When the pasta is drained, put a pat of butter in the pan, followed by the cream mixture and heat until bubbling gently.

Add the pasta and mix.

When you’re ready to serve, put one portion on a plate and sprinkle with more Parmesan cheese and top with a portion of quail. You can serve salad on the side, or after the meal like the French, or before the meal as an appetiser.

I made this dish late spring for a friend (and forgot to blog about it until now) so we ate salad as an appetiser and GF chocolate fondant for dessert. As a whole, the menu was not overly-taxing.

Recipe for Quail with Lemon Tagliatelle   Print Prep time 10 mins Cook time 1 hour Total time 1 hour 10 mins   Recipe type: French Serves: 4 Ingredients 8 Quails 50 grams butter (3.5 T) 4T honey 2T Dijon mustard salt and pepper 250 g tagliatelle or 9 oz dried zest of one lemon ½ cup heavy cream 3 sage leaves 3T parmesan, plus extra for sprinkling Instructions Melt butter and honey. Add Dijon mustard to that. Salt and pepper quail and brush with marinade. Cover and let sit for 2 hours or overnight. Preheat oven to 415°F or 210°C. Put quail in, covered, for 25 minutes. Uncover and cook for another 25-30 minutes. For the tagliatelle, boil salted water. (Begin the cream preparations before you cook the spaghetti). Cook the pasta and drain. Mince the sage leaves, and add that with zest, parmesan, and cream and blend it. Melt a pat of butter in a pan and add the cream. Bring to a light bubble and add the cooked pasta. Mix and serve the pasta with one or two quail and salad on the side. 3.5.3208

So – you! Are you game? (ha ha – sorry for the pun) Or are you horrified by the idea of making quail? Do taglia-tell! 

*groan*

Stop, Jennie, stop!

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Treasures from God

On Saturday, I went to the monthly women’s meeting of our church. It’s a small group because a lot of us are not able to attend for one reason or another, but that gives us a chance to sing, pray, and share in a more intimate setting. This month, the theme was les Tresors de Dieu – treasures from God.

2 Corinthians 8:9 says, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” Jesus was rich, yet he left heaven and became poor for us so we might have what he does. Sometimes we forget that, or forget how much we’ve been given. But in studying the treasures God has given us, we’re able to see just how rich we are. We see how much we have.

We were given a worksheet that had five boxes. The FIRST was where we needed to list our treasures. It’s accompanying scriptures was James 1:17 “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.“

This was where we could list, not only the talents we’ve been given, but also our physical and spiritual gifts. I wrote things like translating, singing (not solos, but just song-leading in front of the church to encourage the congregation), hospitality and cooking, and along with that – our house. I also included writing and public speaking, a solid understanding of the scriptures, and a listening ear. When the other women shared theirs, I added to my own list things I had forgotten: eternal life (duh), having my parents’ presence in my life as a child and now, the church family, the Bible, my 5 senses, my husband and children, hot water and a bed.

It was good for me to list my talents and gifts – my treasures. Truthfully, I’ve been feeling loser-ish as of late. Sometimes (often) I speak without thinking, or hurt people unwittingly. We’ve also had disappointments and discomfort over the past year – mainly due to the house stuck in construction – which can make me feel like God is not for us, even though I know this not to be true if I look at the promises in the Bible.

In the SECOND box, we were to write the positive points regarding our use of the talents and gifts God has given us. The accompanying scripture was Galatians 6:4 “Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else.”

In my box, I wrote that I introduced myself to strangers at church and made myself available for translation whenever there was a need. My husband and I open our house up for Bible discussions on Friday nights, or the monthly house churches on Sunday morning, and we provide food to feed our guests. (Friends bring food as well and help us to clean up afterwards). I offer to study the Bible with people who are searching, and try to lend a listening ear if I think someone needs to talk. All positive, right?

The THIRD box was, perhaps, a more natural thing for me to focus on. We were to write the areas in which we needed to grow in using God’s gifts. The scripture was also Galatians 6:4 because that sort of covers both our successes and stumbling points.

Where to grow? That’s easy!

Spaghetti Carbonara with Lemon Zest

After a long recipe hiatus, I have a string of them to share with you, beginning with spaghetti carbonara, seasoned with lemon zest. My Italian friend, Danila, taught me this recipe, and I didn’t realise until later that spaghetti carbonara is usually made with cream. This version is lighter. And – I need not add – delicious.

This is my first post after I revealed what my French nutritionist has me eating (and which makes it easy to shed pounds). So I’ll tell you how this recipe fits into that plan, if you’re interested. If you want to read the post about the nutrition plan, you can click here. This recipe fits the lunch portion, not the dinner of that meal plan.

These are the ingredients you’ll need. If you’re making this gluten-free, apart from the correct spaghetti, you’ll need to check that the bacon is certified gluten-free. (My brand is). This recipe is for one serving, but you can double or triple it as needed. I made enough for 3 people so the quantity shows that.

To get 150 grams of cooked pasta, you need about 70 grams uncooked, which you’ll want to double-check once it’s cooked. I salted the water and not the finished dish, but the parmesan and bacon are both salty too.

While the water is boiling, fry up some bacon. I used 200 grams for the three of us – about 65 grams per person.

You need one egg per serving, and the egg plus the bacon equal the protein portion.

Take the zest from one lemon. By the time I was done zesting, it was a lot – like, a quarter cup pressed down. But it was the perfect amount for 3 servings. You can take less – really this is something you can do according to taste, even starting small and adding more if you think it needs it.

I beat the eggs for my triple portion and added the lemon zest. I also sprinkled in some white pepper – not even 1/8 teaspoon for one portion – and some dried chives (1/4 teaspoon for one portion).

For the dairy portion of the meal, I used 30 grams of parmesan.

When the pasta is cooked according to the directions on the package, stir in a teaspoon of olive oil per portion. This – combined with the grease from the bacon, which you should blot out with a paper towel – equals one fat/oil portion. The salad dressing was another.

While the pasta is still hot, mix in the egg / zest / spice mixture and let the hot pasta cook the egg. I think Danila made it with egg yolks, but I always make it with the whole egg. For one thing, it’s easier and less potential waste; for another, there’s more egg to coat the pasta. Stir in the bacon and parmesan, and mix thoroughly.

I forgot to take a picture of the Parmesan, but I grated it fresh. You’d be surprised at how much 30 grams of grated cheese is.

Serve with a salad that has more than just lettuce because the vegetable portion won’t be substantial enough with just lettuce.

Not to sound like a promo piece for a dieting fad, but it’s just unbelievable that you can eat this way and still lose weight. But it still seems to be working.

India

Sunday night we ordered Indian food. All the meat in our house was frozen, and I was tired and uninspired to cook. As we ate, Matthieu put on a CD with music from the Indian movie, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, which he got on his business trip to India, when he begged his colleagues to take him to an Indian movie. It was at least 3 hours and in Hindi, but he loved every minute of it.

Our children reminisced about our Indian friends who lived in France for three years, and who went to church with us. When they came to our house for Bible discussions, all the kids ate with their hands – theirs, ours, and the two children from our Indonesian friend. It was great.

That’s one of the things our kids are looking forward to for our upcoming trip to India. I haven’t told you about it yet – at least I don’t think I did – but we decided to spend two weeks in India over Christmas and stay with them.

If you’ve read my memoir, you might remember that I mentioned this couple in the last chapter. Jobby and Hisill. Their three kids are the same age as ours, and there was some speculation on the possibility of an arranged marriage.

Just kidding.

When they left, we promised them we’d come and visit them one day. Then, one day this past spring, we decided to make that happen and bought the tickets. They live in Chennai, and we also asked to visit the orphanage linked to our church, plus the house for abandoned or orphaned children who have AIDS. We told our kids we wouldn’t be buying material gifts for them this Christmas, but we’d be bringing gifts to a whole bunch of kids who have nothing at all. That was met with enthusiasm by all but one of our kids, and I suspect that one had to do with his young age and the fact that Santa would not be making an appearance.

To tell you the truth, as I learn about the vaccines and antibiotic precautions we need to take, I’m a little nervous. It’s one thing to go traipsing around the world on one’s own. It’s quite another thing to take three treasures with you.

As the Indian music played, and the flavours of garam masala washed over our palate, Matthieu told the story of his trip in 1998, and how he wanted to stay with brothers from the church and not in the luxury hotel his company provided. He talked about how he arrived and was shown to a bedroom in a tiny 2-bedroom apartment, with the words, “This is where you’ll sleep.” When he saw there were 6 other people staying there, he asked where they were going to sleep. And the answer was, “oh, don’t worry about us.”

In the end, 2 of them stayed in the other small bedroom, four of them slept in the tiny living room, and my husband had a room all to himself. There was a curtain for the door to the apartment, and the bathroom was a sink with running water, a hole to crouch and do your business, and space to use a bucket full of water, heated in the kitchen, that you could pour over yourself and let run down the hole. In the morning, a brother brought him something to eat that he had cooked for breakfast. And only after the week was up did Matthieu learn that, when they found out he was coming, they searched high and low to be able to provide him with a bed to sleep on.

One of the brothers was the evangelist in the church, and he spoke about Matthieu in his message on Sunday, saying how encouraged he was that this brother could have stayed in the nicest hotel in Bangalore, but he chose to stay with them. And Matthieu was thinking that the evangelist was not the only one who was encouraged. Truly, his one-week introduction to real life in India left him nearly speechless.

William listened to my husband’s matter-of-fact recital of everything they had given up for him, and he couldn’t contain himself as he burst out, “That’s so generous!”

And I just wanted to weep. Yes, my son, it is generous. Out of nothing, they gave all they had. So we’re going there for Christmas, and perhaps we’ll learn something.

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What My Nutritionist Has Me Eating

Amid many things going wrong, there are so many things going right. And one of these things is my (God-given, I’m sure) ability to follow a nutrition plan for longer than three weeks, for once in my life.

I prayed so much to be able to have barriers and eat what’s healthy without eating out of emotion, and I feel like I’ve grown a lot in this area. And in growing in this area, I’m also shrinking in others. Namely, my waistline.

Surmounting Technical Difficulties

Hi friends! You may have gotten some weird emails from A Lady in France since some unknown glitch caused three months of my posts to disappear (and an e-mail to be sent from the last post in May), and then overnight it all reappeared. And then you might have received an e-mail with the most recent post, which you would already have gotten about a week ago. I’m sorry about that!

I think the tech problems were due, either to a plugin and WordPress upgrades, or to a problem in pointing the name servers. (Yeah. That means nothing to me either). I think the “fix” was due to prayer. A miraculous healing.

Three Weeks in the USA

This might be my longest stretch of not writing since I started my blog seven years ago. We have certainly had the busiest summer I’ve ever had, between Brittany and Switzerland and the States. There was so much moving around during our US visit, and so many friends and family to see, I didn’t even try to blog. But I have a few pictures to share with you.

Our first and second stop has no pictures, probably because we were too jet lagged. We flew into DC and drove for 2 hours (which ended up being nearly 4 with DC traffic) to Glen Allen, VA where we stayed in a hotel to break up the drive. Then we visited our friends Rosalind and Anton (plus kids) in Chapel Hill. We go way back to our NY days, and they are faithful friends of ours.

Then we went to Saluda, NC where my mom and step-dad rented a house on the lake. I don’t have a lot of pictures to show you because my extended family is private and most of our pictures have people in them. But here is the room we stayed in, with air conditioning and cool stone floors (it was hot and humid outside). It was spacious enough to accommodate several of us and was quite luxurious, despite the rustic decoration.

I’ve become squeamish about lakes because you can’t see what’s down there, and sure enough, I got BIT by a FISH! It left a mark! My husband got bitten too and said, “I don’t know what they’re trying to achieve.”

But I did enjoy taking (very) quick dips to cool off, then lying in the sun on the dock. It was also magnificent when Matthieu rowed me into the middle of the lake and we sat there quietly, surrounded by hills and trees. Where is THAT picture, I ask you? I didn’t take enough pictures on this trip.

After the extended weekend with my mom and her husband, we went to my dad and step-mom’s house near Asheville. This is the view from their dining room.

Nice, huh?

I do have a few more pictures from this portion of the trip that contain just my kids, so I’m able to share them with you. This is at the fish hatchery. The kids are waiting to give worms. Or was it corn?

And here are three pictures from their successful fishing expedition. This is worth noting because my father despaired of any of his kids enjoying fishing (none of us do), but he has three grandkids who love it.

I think part of the success was in actually catching something.

Juliet is afraid of spiders, but had no problem handling wiggly fish.

Or wiggly lizards.

It was all fun and games until Gabriel got stung twice in the ankle by a yellow jacket. It stayed itchy, discolored and slightly swollen for two weeks (which I didn’t fully realise was related to the sting, but later contributed to an outbreak of hives all over his body right before we had to fly back to France).

When we left my dad’s, we went to Atlanta.

Part of our reason for going was because I have never been there and had heard so much about it. Part of it was because our sister church in Atlanta sends groups of students to Paris (and other places) to get a taste of mission work and I felt a connection with this church.

We’ve hosted students only once because house construction made it impossible the last two summers, but we were invited by Paige, and her sister Hallie’s family – who we hosted – to eat dinner with them (and lunch after church, and to go swimming in their pool – basically, treated royally). I thought the dining room was so beautifully decorated.

I surprised the campus ministry leader by taking a picture of him and texting it to his mom (he didn’t connect me with Paris and thought I was just some weird lady at first). His mom and her husband lead our ministry in Paris and the highest cost they had to count was being so far from their (grown) kids. The picture made her day, just as I knew it would.

Our kids were amazed at the size of the church, and had fun going to the children’s ministry where they learned Bible stuff in English.

Juliet and I got a mother-daughter manicure / pedicure, which is not something you can easily do in France.

And we basically took full advantage of being on vacation by going to restaurants, and enjoying life to the hilt.

There was just one moment to mar the fun memories, and that was when William almost drown. I’m not sure if I’m exaggerating when I say that. All I know is that he got too tired to swim to the side, and began to whimper, while I (looking at my phone instead of watching them – stupid, stupid me because I KNOW what can happen – I used to be a lifeguard!) finally noticed and got him help. I think I’ve finally stopped visualising the nightmare. What ifs are terrible, and you can almost feel like you’re not thanking God enough for what IS.

We stayed another night at Rosalind’s when going from Atlanta to Northern VA (I can’t believe I didn’t take any pictures. This time I didn’t even have jet lag for an excuse).

And then we were in the DC area, visiting old friends from our (original) home church in NY, many of whom we’d not seen in 14 years. Rana and me.

Mari, Christianne and me.

(I seem to be the only one who has aged).

And Sissi, represented through her kids because she appears only behind the lens, not in front.

All our kids played together, and we had a barbecue in the evening, and it was so great to catch up.

The next day we spent just as a family, and we went to the Smithsonian museum(s), then to get Korean food.

And the last day in the States was spent meeting up with blogging friends. There’s Andrea, from About 100%. She’s understated and funny, on her blog and in real life. She drove up to see me since we’d been friends for years but never met in person. (I felt loved).

Her personality really comes through when you read her words.

Then there’s Anna from An Inch of Gray, with her miracle baby Andrew. I wonder if you, my readers, know of Anna, who lost her son five years ago in a flash flood, and then had a surprise pregnancy just last year. That one sentence cannot do justice to the intensity of grief, love, and joy – sometimes all at once – of these five years, but you get all these rich emotions when you read her posts.

But let me back up. Before Andrea and I (and Matthieu and the kids) went to Anna’s, I got to meet Kiran (another first-time meeting) Kiraib, musician and writer, and she gave us such a warm welcome to her house and pool. I was glad we got the afternoon to get real-life acquainted because she is just as lovely in person as she is online. She’s the one holding Andrew below.

We spent the evening eating and talking and letting our kids (all but Andrea’s) run around together, for which my kids were extremely grateful. The only one I haven’t mentioned yet is Kate, who has been recording her cross-country family adventures on Mama Don’t Camp – she is on the far right. I had already met Kate in person before, and I adore her. She is also funny and understated. I could listen to her for hours.

The next day we had to fly back, so Andrea and I had breakfast together. Then we spent some time at the pool (after which Gabriel got the hives). The flight was uneventful if you don’t count the continual sprouting of new hives and another kid getting sick as we landed.

It really and truly was wonderful to get back home. I mean, we’re all horribly jet lagged – I caught the kids playing Cluedo at 1 in the morning. And there is so much laundry. And the house is a mess because we only had two full days in between Switzerland and the States. And the construction is still not done, nor is it moving forward (breathes into a paper bag).

But we’re home.

 

Home sweet home!

A photo posted by Jennie Goutet (@aladyinfrance) on Aug 28, 2016 at 12:24am PDT

And home is good.

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Postcards from Switzerland

Our summer has been such a whirlwind, and we still have a couple more weeks to go – (kids start school the beginning of September). I haven’t had much time to write anything lengthy, but I wanted to share some photos from our trip to the Swiss Alps for the pre-teen camp. It’s for the kids from the French-speaking churches and the few stragglers from Milan, Dubai, Cameroon, etc.

And – of course – the locals.

One day we took the cable car up

and hiked our way back down.

It was torture on the knees

but easy on the eyes.

Otherwise, it was classes in the morning (this is not a class, but a slideshow, which included a photo of my husband teaching a class).

And it was activities such as crafts,

zip-lining, mini-golf,

swimming. (In arctic waters).

Otherwise, it was just feasting our eyes on beauty –

in the tiny things …

and the great.

And feasting our souls on God.

Not a bad way to spend a week, eh?

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French Mixed Berry Tarte

We leave for Switzerland tomorrow, for the pre-teen camp with the French-speaking churches, and I’m leaving you with this French mixed berry tarte before I go!

I used a pre-made roll-out crust, which is new in France in the gluten-free variety. You can now get gluten-free versions of flaky crust (pâte feuilletée) and regular crust (pâte brisée). If you don’t have access to that, you can follow my instructions on the strawberry tarte recipe here for making a good gluten-free pie crust.

Honestly, it’s better to make your own, but sometimes the benefits of saving time outweigh the benefits of having a tastier crust. Especially when you’re already filling it with delicious pastry cream and mixed berries.

Roll out the crust (whether store-bought or homemade) and bake for 15 to 20 minutes at 375°F or 180°C. Let it cool. (It’s not as pretty as when I make it myself).

I decided to use a bag of mixed berries I had in the freezer rather than buy fresh. You can totally make this tarte with fresh, and it will be prettier. If you do that, place the berries in a pretty concentric circle rather than pouring them on top. And you might still need to sprinkle them with confectioner sugar to add sweetness, but you won’t need to mix an entire cup in.

Otherwise, with frozen, take our your mixed berries from the freezer. And mix them with a cup of confectioner sugar.

You don’t need more because the pastry cream is sweet, but you need some because mixed berries are not as sweet as plain strawberries or blueberries. Mix them carefully so you don’t break the berries – easy when they’re frozen, not so easy when fresh or thawed.

Now it’s time to make the pastry cream. For more detailed instructions with step-by-step photos, you can click on the same strawberry tarte recipe, here. Basically, you’ll need to heat up the 2 1/8 cup of milk with the teaspoon of vanilla to the point right before it foams.

While that’s heating, mix 4 egg yolks with 3 tablespoons + 1 teaspoon of corn starch, 1/2 cup sugar, and 1/8 t salt.

When the milk is hot, pour it into the egg yolk mixture, while using a whisk to stir. Transfer it back to the pan and put it on low heat while stirring continuously. It will thicken all of a sudden. And let me tell you – you think it won’t thicken so you stop stirring and grab a drink out of the fridge and you come back to the pan, and voila! There it is already thickened! And with lumps.

Don’t stop stirring the pastry cream.

When it’s thick and perfectly smooth cover it with saran wrap to keep a crust from forming, let it cool, then put it in the fridge until chilled.

Spread that over the baked crust, and then pour the berries on top of that. If you’ve chosen frozen instead of fresh, it’s likely that juice will form. It’s okay. It will get soaked into the pie crust and flavour it even more, and will not be the worse for wear. Mine had lots of liquid, but by the time I served it the crust was solid, tasty, and marbled with color.

Here ’tis! Just in time for your evening meal.

A slice to serve for friends. And sure – go ahead and put a dollop of whipped cream, or a scoop of vanilla ice cream, on top. But you don’t need to. It is perfect as is.

Here’s the printable recipe. Enjoy your summer, friends!

Summer Mixed Berry Tarte   Print Prep time 20 mins Cook time 35 mins Total time 55 mins   Can be made with roll-out dough or fresh (even gluten-free). You can use frozen berries or fresh. From: Jennie Goutet Recipe type: Dessert Cuisine: French Serves: 8 Ingredients 1 roll-out pie crust (or see link for how to make your own GF version) 2⅛ cup milk 1 teaspoon vanilla 4 egg yolks ½ cup sugar 3T plus 1t corn starch ⅛ t salt A bag of frozen mixed berries (or enough to cover the tarte) 1 cup confectioner sugar Instructions Pre-heat oven to 180°C or 375°F. Bake pie crust for 15 to 20 minutes - check on it and turn if it's baking unevenly. Heat the milk and vanilla. Whisk the yolks, sugar, corn starch & salt. When the milk is hot, pour it into the yolk mixture and mix it. Return mixture to pan and heat over low heat, stirring continuously until it thickens. Put the pastry cream in a bowl and cover with saran wrap. Let it cool, then put it in the refrigerator until chilled. Spread pastry cream on the cooled tarte, followed by the berry mixture. Put that in the refrigerator and serve cold. 3.5.3208

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When I’m Afraid

I’ve been troubled by world events. I had been increasingly troubled over recent months, but it sort of came to a head when, on Tuesday, a terrorist slit the throat of a priest in Normandy while he was performing mass. I’m troubled by the savagery, and I’m troubled by the subsequent reflection of an acquaintance, who posted a diary of recent terrorist events in Europe – with the location and dates, followed by, “A Muslim killed ________ or a Muslim did _________ or a Muslim murdered ______.”

Not a terrorist. A Muslim.

This labelling plays right into the hands of ISIS, effectively contributing to their mission. They want a war between religions. They want us (Christians or Caucasians) to mistrust refugees and hate Muslims, and they want the tension to grow to the point where it erupts in civil war and mass barbarity.

They want us to judge a person by his attire (jubbah, beard, hijab, niqab) and label them the enemy. Now – I understand it takes an effort to get to know someone who looks different from us, or whose culture differs from our own. But I fear we don’t have the luxury to wait in making the effort while the animosity grows and we get to the point where we’re blind to the common humanity that lies behind the differences.

Parallel to the side-effects of terrorism are the growing troubles in America and the divisions that appear through racial tension and heated debate over the presidential election. You all know my preference for the next president so I won’t reiterate. But I’m beginning to fear that the hatred, which has been stirred, will erupt no matter who wins – from where the violence erupts will depend on which candidate carries the victory. True, my most pressing fear lies in the state of affairs in Europe, but I can’t help but think the affairs in the US tie in critically.

I see these events coming together like a perfect storm. A charismatic leader with dogmatic rhetoric, the oppression of one race, the mistrust of one religion, the decayed souls who plot the next act of slaughter on every front and without cease, the refugees desperate to give their children a chance at life (but who look  the same as the ones who plot murder) pouring into Europe by the masses.

I recently read an article that resonated with me, called History tells us what may happen next with Brexit and Trump, by Tobias Stone. He was struck by how the assassination of a “minor European royal” led to the death of 17 million people in World War I. He suggests we should be asking ourselves what our Archduke Ferdinand moment will be. Is it the pregnant woman hacked to death by a Syrian refugee in Germany? The priest in Normandy brutally killed before his parishioners?

It seems we’re still at a point where we can ignore these troubling world events (if our daughter has not been killed because she happened to be in the vicinity of terrorists, or our son has not been killed because of his skin color, or our husband has not been killed because of his profession). We can ignore, and go on vacation, and continue working, and send our children to school.  And maybe it will go away, things will ease, it will get better.

I hope so. And I’m not being blithe when I say I do believe it’s a possibility that we will skim through this without massive collateral damage.

But I’m afraid, and sometimes that leads me to examine the worst-case scenario rather than the best. When I’m afraid, I pray. And when I have trouble praying, I pray through scripture so that my faith may increase. And this is sort of the point of my post.

Here are some of the scriptures I use to combat fear:

How to take heart:

You, Lord, are my lamp;

    the Lord turns my darkness into light.

With your help I can advance against a troop;

    with my God I can scale a wall. 2 Samuel 22:29-30

I lie down and sleep;

    I wake again, because the Lord sustains me.

I will not fear though tens of thousands

    assail me on every side. Psalm 3:5-6

Though an army besiege me,

    my heart will not fear;

though war break out against me,

    even then I will be confident. Psalm 27:3

You will not fear the terror of night,

    nor the arrow that flies by day, Psalm 91:5 (This entire Psalm is faith-building when it comes to battling fear).

Surely God is my salvation;

    I will trust and not be afraid.

The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense;

    he has become my salvation.” Isaiah 12:2

“I, even I, am he who comforts you.

    Who are you that you fear mere mortals,

    human beings who are but grass, Isaiah 51:12 (This scripture has a special place in my heart – I talked about it in my memoir).

On being courageous:

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.” Deuteronomy 31:6

He said, “Let us meet in the house of God, inside the temple, and let us close the temple doors, because men are coming to kill you—by night they are coming to kill you.” 

But I said, “Should a man like me run away? Or should someone like me go into the temple to save his life? I will not go!” Nehemiah 10b-11

And then, of course, what Jesus says:

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world.Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.

“I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.”  John 14:1-3 & vs 18

I read these things, and I remember God is not limited by my comprehension or my circumstances. He’s a personal God who comforts and reassures, who does not despise me for my fear, and who does not minimise what I feel. He is always ready to shield me from the enemy. And – what’s even more remarkable – he has the power to do so.

All this is what I focus on when I’m afraid.

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