Jennie Goutet's Blog: A Lady in France, page 7

Crockpot Alcohol-Free Hot Spiced Wine

For whatever reason you want to avoid alcohol for the winter holidays, (or wish to help a loved one avoid alcohol), you can’t go wrong with serving an alcohol-free hot spiced wine. Alcohol-free wine is a great substitute when the choice is that or nothing, but it’s not always something you drink simply because it tastes good. However, when you make an alcohol-free version of the hot spiced wine, it levels the playing field. With all the citrus and spices, you don’t suffer from an inferior taste. At all.

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I searched a bunch of recipes before deciding on one of my own, and although I followed only part of Jamie Oliver’s recipe, I did like his method of boiling some of the wine with the spices and citrus in a saucepan before adding it to the rest of the wine. I also took his advice and put the star anise in afterwards to avoid a strong liquorice taste.

So, I sliced a clementine, a lime, and a lemon and put them in a saucepan, along with a cup of castor sugar. I added a big chunk of peeled, sliced ginger (the size of my thumb, only thicker – sorry it’s not more scientific). I added 6 cloves, 4 cardamum pods, and I would have added 3 cinnamon sticks but I discovered the morning of that I had run out. Instead, I added a teaspoon of ground cinnamon and it was fine, but the sticks are more fun.

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I covered the citrus and spices with wine and brought the mixture to a boil. I use the alcohol-free wine called Bonne Nouvelle. A cold white wine goes down really nicely with seafood. And a warmer red or merlot pairs nicely with pizza or French cheese (to cut the taste in between bites). However I’ve never had a good bottle of rosé (which is usually too saccharine-y sweet) and have tended to avoid it until now. Since all the spiced wine recipes I looked at called for a fruitier white wine or (alcoholic) apple cider in smaller quantities to offset the red, I decided to go with the rosé for the purpose.

While the spices were cooking in rosé, I poured the rest of the rosé plus three bottles of red alcohol-free wine in the crockpot.

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Water spiders? Nope! Star anise.

I used 2 star anise, but you might want to consider using one. Even without boiling it with the rest of the spices, it was quite strong and might not please everyone in the crowd. As for me? I liked it with two.

When the spice mix has come to a boil, pour the contents into the crockpot and remove all but one slice of lemon and one of lime to keep it from being too sour. I kept the clementines. Of course, if you like it sour, by all means keep the citrus.

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Since you’ve extracted the flavour by boiling the spices ahead of time, the wine is ready to drink once it’s hot – around a half-hour. But the great thing about a crockpot is that it can be prepared a couple hours in advance and kept warm as your guests arrive. They will enter a festive house, which smells absolutely divine.

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I used a small tea strainer that fits over the mug to catch any loose cloves that slip through. We served it with the traditional buttered toast with smoked salmon and lemon juice, and also toasts with foie gras and fig jam.

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Yum!

I seem to be having trouble with my recipe box. I’ll see if I can go in and edit it later. In the meantime, I hope your holidays are going along swimmingly.

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God is Not a Cruel Master

I know I’m supposed to be writing something all light and Christmas-y, but this is why I’m a multi-niche, small-time blogger, rather than a popular blogger. I write whatever I want, whenever the mood strikes me, even if it’s not “in season”. I think this is also why I’m still blogging after eight years – there’s no pressure! Today the mood struck me to write about what I’ve realised over the years as three elemental truths about God – three truths I’ve grasped, stored in my heart, and which I pull out often to light my way.

The first is that you can’t out-give God. No matter how much you give for weekly contribution, special missions contribution, humanitarian efforts, to friends and family in need, or even for something as simple as a birthday gift, you can’t give more to others than God will give to you. In fact, in my experience, so often when we give a little nervously, not quite seeing our way past the amount, we almost immediately get an unexpected windfall, large or small. God is so generous.

I feel like I should qualify this because I do not subscribe to the “prosperity gospel” way of thinking where wealth is not only your due, but it’s also directly linked to your righteousness. The holier, the wealthier. No.  Let me just say this: If your righteousness is not directly linked to Jesus’s death on the Cross, you are on a broad road leading to destruction, no matter how much or little material wealth you have. Also, there must be some leeway for human understanding in this because sometimes what I think I need in a material sense is not necessarily what God thinks I need. But the fact remains. God has allowed us to give generously over the years and although we’ve at times felt a little hard-pressed, we’ve never felt panicked. You can’t out-give God, I always say, particularly when I’m about to give nervously.

The second truth is that every life is precious. Even that vicious ole miser who’s already at the end of his life and is just hanging on by threads, and whose demise you know will be met everywhere with relief – that guy keeps hanging on because he’s precious to God. He gets every opportunity to change his ways, right until the last minute because his life matters. On the flip side, sometimes I think God keeps someone young and alive just because she’s so determined. She’s unstoppable, enthusiastic, passionate about making the world a better place. I can imagine God folding his hands in satisfaction and saying, “Well done, my child.” He lets her live on.

Yes, we all must die, and some earlier than others. Yet no one is forgotten when they come into the world, and not one is forgotten when they depart it. This comforts me when I’m afraid of death. God will not let me or a loved one die randomly. He will let each of us die at precisely the time he has chosen in advance because it is the best thing for us and everyone around us.

The third truth is that God is not a cruel master. This is the one I want to talk about today, and which I think about all the time. God is not a cruel master. He may be a disciplining God, but he’s not a punishing God. And in using these words, I’m thinking specifically of this scripture in Matthew 25:14-30, although the translation uses “hard man” rather than “cruel master”:

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 “Again, it will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his wealth to them. To one he gave five bags of gold, to another two bags, and to another one bag, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received five bags of gold went at once and put his money to work and gained five bags more. So also, the one with two bags of gold gained two more. But the man who had received one bag went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.

“After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. The man who had received five bags of gold brought the other five. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with five bags of gold. See, I have gained five more.’

“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’

“The man with two bags of gold also came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with two bags of gold; see, I have gained two more.’

“His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’

“Then the man who had received one bag of gold came. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your gold in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.’

“His master replied, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.

“‘So take the bag of gold from him and give it to the one who has ten bags. For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Each of the three got a different talent according to his ability, and so do we get talents in proportion with our ability. God didn’t expect the person with two talents to earn five more the same way the person with five talents did. He just expected him to earn something. So the third person who buried his in the ground … what was going through his head?

Thoughts have crossed my mind, like, well at least the money is safe and he gave it back. At least he didn’t lose it or steal it. I think what bothered the master in this case was the guy’s perception of him. True, the man who got one talent was lazy, and in a sense did steal because he didn’t even let it earn interest. But his real fault was thinking that no matter what he did, it was never going to be good enough for the master. He knew his master was a “hard man” and he was just sitting there, paralysed, waiting for him to strike.

We’ve started praying with our children each night in a more deliberate way. One night I’ll pray with my daughter and my husband with the two boys (separately), and the next night we’ll switch. Well, last night one of my children started praying in a lazy, flippant way. I reminded the child gently, “Remember who you’re praying to. This is the God of the Universe and you can’t treat him with disrespect.” The child immediately looked stricken and fearful so I spoke about God’s love – how he’s so much better than Mom or Dad. Mom and Dad are always so busy and say, “not now,” but God is never like that. He always wants to hear from you. He’ll stop whatever he’s doing just to listen to you.”

“You mean he won’t disintegrate me?” the kid asked, doubtfully. And though I gave vehement assurance, the child still refused to pray and went away sorrowful.

Fortunately FORTUNATELY (oh my heart, isn’t it difficult to raise kids?) we have time with our children to teach them more accurately about God. And if there’s any lesson to teach them it’s how MUCH God loves them. If a child only follows out of fear, it’s not a relationship that will go the long haul.

But don’t we all think about God that way sometimes? When we struggle with that same core sin (greed, laziness, selfishness, lust, anger, envy) that leads us into yet another foolish action, don’t we subconsciously say, “This time is it. I’ve used up his patience. Surely he can’t continue to forgive. I should have gotten it by now and I deserve the punishment he will mete out.”?

The thing is …. no. We didn’t use up his patience. He can continue to forgive. We don’t even deserve the punishment. Not anymore we don’t because Jesus not only died for our sins, he was also resurrected. So we are neither punishable for our sins (the ones before we make Christ Lord or the ones after), nor are we punishable for his death. Because he’s alive.

Well how about that.

The thing is, there was this cup that needed to be drunk. It was the cup of God’s wrath, which we deserved for the ways we’ve been offensive to him – in the human condition way where every inclination of man’s heart was only evil all the time. This is the cup of wrath before Mercy came in the form of flesh and walked among us and drank it in our stead:

Awake, awake!

    Rise up, Jerusalem,

you who have drunk from the hand of the Lord

    the cup of his wrath,

you who have drained to its dregs

    the goblet that makes people stagger.

(Isaiah 51:17)

Jesus begged God not to have to drink the cup of God’s wrath. But he was surrendered to God’s will and he did drink it for us.

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” (Matthew 26:39)

And all of God’s wrath for what we have done in the past, the present and the future was poured into him until he staggered under its weight and cried out.

From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lemasabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). (Matthew 27:45)

He carried the wrath into the bowels of hell and left it there, and now God’s wrath is spent. He has none left for us, even when we continue to walk in weakness and regret. Look here!

This is what your Sovereign Lord says,

    your God, who defends his people:

“See, I have taken out of your hand

    the cup that made you stagger;

from that cup, the goblet of my wrath,

    you will never drink again. (Isaiah 51:22)

When you’re tempted to cringe, waiting for God to strike you because of recurrent (or new) sins, remember that. Remember that he has taken away from you that goblet of his wrath and that you will never drink from it again. When you’re weak, tell yourself that God is not a cruel master. Remember this:

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” (1 John 4:18)

You won’t walk around fearing punishment because God’s love is perfect, and you were made holy through that perfect love. He has no more wrath, only divine, sparkling, exuberant love for you.

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Merry Christmas, dear ones.

 

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Progress on Our House

It’s been awhile since I’ve written something and I actually have two videos to share with you. One is a tour of our house (gasp) and the other is a video of me! (gasp, gasp). I’m so awkward.

Our house is mostly finished. And I’ve been wiped out from fatigue and busyness. Here are some of the things I’ve been doing.

Physical therapy 3x a week on foot and shoulder.
MRIs on foot and shoulder (and hand and elbow – I have arthritis, but fortunately it’s the kind you want if you get any at all. I don’t have high inflammation markers). Plus other doctor’s and orthodontist appointments for me and the kids.
Driving kids to swimming and dance twice a week, solfège, band ensemble, instrument lessons – all that multiplied by three.
Attending year-end concerts and open houses and teacher’s meetings.
Taking my clunky immobilising boot off to drive and putting it back on to walk.
Sending my husband off on his business trips.
Hosting house church and cookie swaps and tree decorating (okay, okay – I know it’s my own fault).
Sidestepping the workers on the days they show up, and waiting for them the days they don’t.
Accompanying the workers to the town dump to throw the rubble from construction (since you have to be a resident).
Setting up appointments related to the court case for the first company walking off with a huge chunk of our money.
Querying agents and publishing houses for my Regency.
Reviewing the French translation of my memoir.
Thinking ahead to my next book and reading Pickwick Papers to get a better grasp of Cockney slang.
Planning a kid’s birthday and a friend’s baby shower, and a Christmas Eve plus Christmas lunch.
Moderating a FB group and beta reading and just generally being available for friends who need me in the good times and the trials (as they also do for me, and in great number).

Those are just some of the things. I don’t remember ever feeling this tired and … wordless. Or perhaps all the words are going into books.

But! Our house is, at least, liveable. The stairs have been put in. Here are some pictures. This first is looking down the stairwell at the new stairs put in. There needs to be a wall on either side.

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Our front door. (Taken on a different day late afternoon).

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A view from the door of our living room. That doorway next to the tree is new.

[image error]The shelving unit that separates the living room from the corridor. It used to be a hallway with walls on either side, but we removed the walls. We had to add a supporting beam so my husband built open shelves on either side.

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The tree at my back.

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And the dining room that used to be a guest bedroom. We removed the wall in the spring. We still need to hang the paintings there.

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The new stairs

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and going up the stairs.

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The dizzying view down. (We’re blocking it with a gate for now until my husband can build the walls).

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Finally, a few pictures of the attic that will one day be four bedrooms and a bathroom. In about three years if we win the court case. In about however long it takes us to pay off the 20-year loan and come up with another massive sum if we lose the court case or the company goes bankrupt.

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So that’s pretty much it. Of course you didn’t need to see the pictures because I’m about to show you in a video. First, the one with me talking. (Please ignore my gaucheness).

And then, of course, the actual tour.

So that’s what’s been going on with me. 2017 has felt like a year of brokenness and waiting. I mean, not in any obvious or detrimental way. It’s the constant waiting for workers and the next steps in the court case, me rushing to the doctor and dropping and breaking my phone screen, my sore foot that won’t heal for five months, all the running around … I’m just so weary.

But I’m still deeply grateful for everything I have. Here’s to 2018. I hope yours is filled with wonder.

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Gluten-Free Pecan Pie

Pecan pie is my favourite. I rarely make it because I have to special order the corn syrup, and also the people we celebrate Thanksgiving with every year always make a Southern pecan pie (with no corn syrup) so it feels redundant to have two. But since I can’t eat the other pie (which is made with gluten), I usually have to give up my most delectable dessert.

Well not this year, baby!

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If you feel like you haven’t heard from me in awhile, that’s partially true. But I wrote a post about our time in Vienna here, and it didn’t go out to e-mail subscribers because of a glitch (an extra character in one of the photo titles). So if you want to see some photos of that beautiful city, get caught up on my life and read what I think about legacies, you can do so here.

Back to pie. For the gluten-free crust, I use a flour mix (Schar, or in this case Dove’s Freee. If I were in the States I’d be using Bob’s Red Mill). I also used a brown flour GF mix, which has beet fiber in it to make it more whole-grain.

I like mixing GF dough in the Cuisinart because you don’t get your fingers all sticky, especially since you need an egg to make this work. You put 2 cups of flour, a half-cup confectioner sugar, 125 grams of butter, an egg and a scant teaspoon of large grain sea salt. The salty crystals make the pie crust taste good. If you don’t have large grain, put a half-teaspoon.

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When you roll out the dough, it’s better to put parchment paper under the crust and over it. The one underneath will carry it to the pie pan without breaking it, and the one above you can remove and reuse for something else.

[image error]Remove the extra crust, but leave enough to crimp the edges. It looks like this.

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My recipe makes enough crust and filling for a deep dish pie, but I only have a normal sized pie pan. So I used the remainder to make pecan bars. Basically the same thing, but in a different format.

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So you have your crust, and now you need to roast your pecans (only 2 cups, though you’ll need more for the top). Just roast a tiny bit so it releases a perfumed roast nut flavour. About 6 minutes in 350°F should do the trick. Chop those up.

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While you’re making the rest of the filling, bake the crust at 350°F for about 5-8 minutes until its hot to touch, but not brown. The filling consists of three eggs, which you’re going to want to beat before adding a cup of corn syrup, 5 tablespoons of softened butter, a teaspoon of vanilla, a half-teaspoon salt and a teaspoon of cinnamon. Mix all that together, along with a cup of sugar.

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Now we need to talk about the sugar. It you want a pie that sets more easily (less runny) and is really carmelized, I recommend using all white sugar. If you want something that has a softer texture, you can use half-white and half-brown. That’s what I used for this recipe and the pie was a little runnier when warm than when I use all white. But you’ll see what it looks like in the last picture. It’s got this velvety flavour and texture in the end when served.

Mix in those chopped pecans and fill the pie crust. Here’s where the French in me comes out. Have a cup or two (depending on whether you have a larger pie dish or not) of pecan halves so you can make this really cool concentric decoration on top. This is the kind of thing the French like to do to make their patisserie beautiful. Though, of course, they don’t make pecan pie.

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It’s really pretty, isn’t it?

Pour it into the warm pie crust and bake for 45 minutes at 350°. My oven is not reliable so I turned it to 325°F and had to bake it longer. You want the middle to be a little quivery, but not completely runny. If it is, you can put it back into the oven, covering the pie so the pecans don’t burn on top. You can also try turning off the oven and keeping it in there for 15 Minutes. Don’t be afraid to cut into it along one row of pecans to test, then putting it back in for 10 minutes at a time, low heat and covered.

And there’s your pie.

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And there it is again.

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Happiness on a plate.

Gluten-Free Pecan Pie   Print Prep time 30 mins Cook time 1 hour Total time 1 hour 30 mins   Serves: 12 Ingredients Crust: 2 cups gluten-free flour mix ½ cup confectioner sugar 125 grams unsalted butter (1/2 cup) 1 egg 1 scant teaspoon large grain sea salt (or ½ teaspoon regular) Filling: 3-4 cups pecans 3 eggs 1 cup dark corn syrup 1 cup sugar (all white, or half white, half brown) 5 tablespoons softened unsalted butter (70 grams) 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 teaspoon cinnamon Instructions Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) Roast 2 cups pecans for 6-8 minutes until fragrant. Set a timer so you don't burn them because it goes quickly. Set aside the remaining pecans. Put all crust ingredients in the cuisinart and mix. Put parchment paper on the pastry board, then flour it, and place the dough on top. Put more flour on top of that and another piece of parchment paper to roll out. Remove the top parchment paper and slide the crust into the pan, keeping the bottom paper. Remove the extra crust and cut the extra parchment paper so it's neat. Crimp the edges. Put the crust in the oven for 8-10 minutes so it's hot but not brown. Chop the roasted pecans (2 cups). Mix all the remaining filling ingredients together, adding the pecans at the last minute. Pour into warm pie crust. Take the remaining unroasted pecan halves and place them in a concentric circle on the pie filling. Bake for 45 minutes until the middle is quivery, but the pie is mostly set. Put it back in the oven (lower temperature and cover with aluminium foil) for 10 minutes at a time if the pie is too runny. Let cool for an hour and a half and serve. 3.5.3229
IF YOU’D LIKE MORE RECIPES, CLICK HERE TO SEE MY RECIPE INDEX.

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Vienna Waits for You

When, at the tender age of 18, I sang along to Billy Joel’s Vienna Waits for You, identifying oh so well with those lyrics…

Slow down, you crazy child

You’re so ambitious for a juvenile

But then if you’re so smart, tell me

Why are you still so afraid?

Where’s the fire, what’s the hurry about?

You’d better cool it off before you burn it out

You’ve got so much to do

And only so many hours in a day

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I could not have known that when I finally did make it to Vienna, I would be seeing it from the vantage point of a wheelchair. It was a thoroughly humbling experience because, although I’ve slowly been getting more and more rundown physically – mentally I keep expecting to pop back up again and pick up where I left off. I can’t imagine just stopping everything to heal. What am I going to do with myself…nothing?

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But it seems God had another plan. Fatigue alone would not have put me in a wheelchair, but the sprained foot I thought I had since the month of August, and for which I was wearing a special suspension shoe that took the weight off my foot and put it on my ankle, actually turned out to be a huge case of tendonitis starting with the tendons on the arch (both above and below the foot) and snaking up the ankle to the side of my leg. That shoe was not the worst thing I could have worn, but it came close.

And I was on my feet constantly while preparing for my husband’s 50th birthday party. By the time we left for Vienna (we had the Sunday to try and clean up – and failed – and we left that Monday), I had trouble putting pressure on my foot, and we both wondered whether the entire vacation would be spent in the hotel. We had the idea of asking for a wheelchair to navigate the standing and walking at the airport, which led to getting one in Vienna (the airport is spread out, so that was a good idea), which led to us asking at the hotel, where we were lent one for free during our stay there.

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But you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want or you get old

You’re gonna kick off before you even

Get halfway through

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you

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If you missed it earlier, this whole Vienna thing came about because my husband remembered my mentioning once in our early days how much I identified with the song. And last February, when we went on our church married retreat, there were these little decorated jars with slips of paper where you could each write down date ideas to pull out at random. I put things like lunch and a museum. Matthieu put down Vienna.

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Since his birthday party was on the day of our wedding anniversary, this Vienna trip was to celebrate us. But oh goodness, the song was prophetic. The party absolutely destroyed me physically (high blood pressure, arthritis flare-up, anxiety – but this is not supposed to be a post to gripe about medical problems so I’ll stop there). The wheelchair was actually welcome because I was so exhausted, even my hands hung limp at my sides, exacerbated by all the phoning and texting I did in the days leading up to the party. Texting can wreak havoc, man.

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Slow down, you’re doing fine

You can’t be everything you want to be

Before your time

Although it’s so romantic on the borderline tonight

Tonight,

Too bad but it’s the life you lead

You’re so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need

Though you can see when you’re wrong, you know

You can’t always see when you’re right. you’re right

I get so ahead of myself that I forget what I need, and this party just brought everything to a head. I forgot to delegate and pray and chill out a little and settle for less than perfect, and actually look around and enjoy the gorgeous success it was. Enjoy the panorama of faces who love us. There is so much to savor in life when you’re not white-knuckling your idea of perfect.

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You’ve got your passion, you’ve got your pride

But don’t you know that only fools are satisfied?

Dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

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Life is so beautiful when you stop, and sit down to drink in its sweetness.

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When you stay quiet and open your senses to what’s around you, when you put aside the panic and the desperation, the scrambling to determine your worth by the legacy you leave behind.

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Every life is a legacy, whether you live large or small.

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Slow down, you crazy child

And take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile

It’s all right, you can afford to lose a day or two

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

And you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want or you can just get old

You’re gonna kick off before you even get halfway through

Today is my birthday. I am 48 and solidly middle-aged. Youth will not come back, though in my heart of hearts I feel as wide-eyed and filled with wonder as did that kid who lay on the grass in her backyard and tried to spot pictures in the clouds.

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I just finished my third book, after countless revisions (thus my silence on the blog), and am querying agents this time around because self-marketing is an exhausting thing. The editing has consumed me for weeks.

But today I’m stopping to ask myself where the hurry is, and how is it that I could fall back onto that slippery slope of yoking my worth to my achievements. How is it, over the course of these past months (year?), I could have forgotten to take time off, and slow down, and look around in wonder.

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I can afford to lose a day or two.

Hayden in St. Augustine church #Vienna

A post shared by Jennie Goutet (@aladyinfrance) on Nov 4, 2017 at 12:56am PDT

Vienna turned out to be a completely different trip than I imagined. It was harder to get around in the wheelchair so we did less. I was cold from not moving (and the colder climate), and felt so worn out I could only handle half-day visits. Even on the last day, when I had started to recover and we actually went sight-seeing, my poor mother-in-law, who was watching our kids, broke her foot in two places and needed emergency surgery. It ruined the enjoyment, worrying and wondering if we should try to fly out that night, instead of the next day as planned. So it was not the fabulous romantic getaway I envisioned. (Is there even a Borderine in Vienna? I never found out.) But it was, nevertheless, a memorable trip. Vienna is, for me, a city rich in significance.

You know the sweet thing about the wheelchair? Every time my husband leaned down to release the brake on one side, then the other, he kissed me first on one cheek, then the other. He was happy to love me, even when I had nothing to offer in return. The legacy was not what I achieved. It was just me.

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Why don’t you realize, Vienna waits for you

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

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A Party to Grace

My husband turned fifty in October and I threw him a party. A “party” is actually an understatement because I stressed more about this event than I did my own wedding. With 140 people, it was more like a grand … reception.

undecorated

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decorated

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I bought decorations, and thankfully had people willing to come and tie lights and garland and blow up helium balloons.

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(Within minutes of the party starting, the kids had sucked all the helium out of the balloons on the tables upstairs so they could have Micky Mouse voices).

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I bought candles and ordered coat-check tickets for our vestiare.

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I had students willing to come help out – to take coats, serve food and drinks, and pass the appetiser trays. (Not paid – just generously giving their time).

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I bought chaffing dishes and made 50 lbs of chicken. And though I made all the sauce and part of the chicken on my own (and most of the green beans and 48 cupcakes), I did get help on the chicken cutlets and the appetisers. Three of our guests (who also happen to work as chefs) put on aprons and went into the kitchen to prepare and serve the food. I didn’t ask them. They just did it.

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And one family oversaw the rice cookers.

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Oh, and the cake. My friend Gilda made the cake(s).

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Christelle made the “cagnotte” – the box for people to put cards and little gifts inside.

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I sure do have talented friends. And my brother-in-law and brother-in-Christ were deejays for the event.

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The 40+ kids played like crazy (when they weren’t sucking helium).

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And my sister-in-law made a slideshow.

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Juliet and Eléonore danced their own choreographed piece.

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Then everyone went and danced.

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We hesitated over the decision, but decided to have an alcohol-free event, which is not at all a French thing to do. We also decided to have a prayer before the meal.

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The combination of the two was not to everyone’s taste and a couple people left right after the meal. But we wanted to have a party that represented who we were – and also show that it’s possible to have a fun party when no alcohol is served. There were many who discovered that the party was to their taste indeed.

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We had our cheese and salad course, which is very French.

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Brad made the toast, and the kids said a few words about their dad.

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Then we all spent time talking. (Except me. I was too stressed making sure everyone was taken care of and having fun).

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We blew out the candles,

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and went to bed at three in the morning. It was a truly magical evening.

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The next morning I woke up at nine, though it had only been six hours of sleep. I was too buzzed to sleep any longer. I was aching from head to toe, and though I had tried to stay off my sprained foot, I could barely limp from one piece of furniture to the next to make my way around. Even my arms hung limp at my sides, and –  you may laugh – but it was partly from sending so many organisational texts.

I think the part of me that ached the most was my heart. It was a happy event – a truly joyous occasion. But I couldn’t stop crying the next day. My exhaustion had a great deal to do with it, but I also thought about the students who gave up their entire afternoon and evening. I thought of my guests who slapped on aprons and worked in the steamy kitchen. I thought of my friends who came and did last-minute grocery runs and spent all afternoon decorating. I thought of my family – my parents-in-law who spent a fortune on cheese (seriously), and my siblings-in-law who deejayed and took photos, and did slideshows, and stayed till the bitter end to help clean. I thought of my friend Patrick who also deejayed (which is what he does for a living, but he did it for free), and all the guests who brought salad, cheese, cupcakes, appetisers, drinks… I thought of Gilda who slaved over the beautiful cakes and Christelle who made the cagnotte, and Henri who made the rice.

I cried because I could never pay them all back.

My husband made a reflection about a week before the party, in response to something I said, that when we don’t want to ask for help it’s because we don’t want to owe anyone. We don’t want someone to have something on us that we may be called to pay back. I was really struck by what he said and by how true it was in my own heart. I hate to owe people because I’m afraid of outwearing my welcome. I’m afraid if I ask too much I’ll just be an encumbrance and then maybe they’ll stop loving me.

God might have possibly been working on that aspect to my character by allowing me to have a sprained foot right in the midst of the biggest event I’ve ever organised. (Even for my wedding reception, someone else cooked and decorated and worried about the timeline). With my aching foot, all I could do was sit and tell other people what to do (at their request). I couldn’t do it myself. Though I prepared 10 lbs of chicken on my own, I couldn’t do the other 40 and I had to ask for help.

(When I confessed to the friends who came over to prepare the chicken that I had wanted to try and do it all myself, my friend said – “yeah, Jennie. That would have been a sin.”). He made me laugh, but I’m telling you, the struggle is real. I just want to do everything myself. It’s partly pride that I think I’ll do it better and partly fear of being indebted to someone and no longer being valuable to them.

Jesus, though, allowed himself to be served, and he was perfectly capable of doing it all himself. Someone else poured perfume over him to prepare his body for burial. Someone else prepared his passover feast. He asked his friends to stay and pray with him so he wouldn’t be alone. Someone else carried his cross. There’s something godly in asking for help and letting people serve you. You bless them by allowing them to show their love, by being vulnerable. And you’re blessed in return.

Still. I bawled my eyes out. I was also super tired. We left for Vienna the day after for our wedding anniversary, and my mother-in-law broke her foot while watching our kids. So I came back and cooked a bunch of meals to freeze for Matthieu’s parents, cleaned up after Matthieu’s party (there was stuff absolutely everywhere) and prepared to welcome a bunch of nine-year olds for William’s party on Saturday. So I’m still pretty exhausted. Now – only now – I might be able to rest, though I think it’s too late for my poor foot to heal on its own without some intervention. Turns out I’m not as good at sitting still as I need to be.

It was just such a beautiful party. It was so beautiful to see everyone come out to celebrate my husband, who deserves some attention for once. (He’s a discreet guy). It was so beautiful to see everyone happy to serve and happy to celebrate together. It was even tearfully beautiful for me to be in such reduced circumstances – to be forced to allow people to serve in ways I can’t. Matthieu and I were witness to so much grace that evening.

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We were all a party to God’s grace.

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How God Speaks to Us

A friend shared through a private FB group that her son wanted to hear God answer back when he prayed to him (literally, in spoken dialogue) and was disappointed when he couldn’t hear his voice. When I read that, I thought – yes! I know what you mean, kid! And it’s good to want that. And He will speak to you in his way and his timing. But God communicates with us in such myriad ways it’s impossible to narrow it down to simple dialogue and voices that we can hear.

Let me start by saying the strongest way God speaks to us is through his Word – through the Bible. In fact, that’s really the only way he needs to speak to us, and anything else we might get here or there is just frosting. But I thought it would be good to list some of the other ways he can speak to us.

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Spoken Dialogue

In 1 Samuel 3 (the whole story is verses 1-21), God called to Samuel in a voice he could hear.

Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord: The word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him.

A third time the Lord called, “Samuel!” And Samuel got up and went to Eli and said, “Here I am; you called me.” Then Eli realized that the Lord was calling the boy. So Eli told Samuel, “Go and lie down, and if he calls you, say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, “Samuel! Samuel!”

Then Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”

In my experience and from what I’ve heard from others, the actual voice of God in our head is rare – and it’s usually short. As in, a word or a sentence. I’ve been woken out of sleep by – what I think was – God calling my name, and I’ve had a few times (very few) where there was a loud voice in my head, telling me to do something. However, I don’t remember these incidents well enough for them to have left a mark.

The best example of this I read in the book Blind Descent, where the author, Brian Dickinson, was temporarily blinded while descending Mount Everest alone, and the extreme conditions left him mentally confused and unable to remember the basics of survival. At least twice, he heard in his head, “Brian. Drink some water.” Being hydrated allowed him to remember what to do next so he was able to survive.

There’s another example in the book, Saved by Angels by Bruce van Natta, that was less of a command and more of a suggestion. The author was driving down the highway with two fingers on the wheel when he was nudged that maybe he should put both hands on the wheel – seconds before the semi-truck next to him blew a tire sending pieces into his trajectory. With both hands on the wheel, he was able to steer to safety.

So I think when God speaks to us this way, with an actual voice in our head, it’s short and sweet and infinitely practical. I wish I could remember the commands and suggestions I’ve heard, but I don’t. It’s not the strongest way God communicates with me. How God speaks to one person is not always how he will speak to the next.

Dreams

In Genesis 37:5-11, God spoke to Joseph in a dream. He showed him what would happen later.

Joseph had a dream, and when he told it to his brothers, they hated him all the more. He said to them, “Listen to this dream I had:  We were binding sheaves of grain out in the field when suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright, while your sheaves gathered around mine and bowed down to it.”

His brothers said to him, “Do you intend to reign over us? Will you actually rule us?” And they hated him all the more because of his dream and what he had said ….   His brothers were jealous of him, but his father kept the matter in mind.

I had a sort of prophetic dream when I was 17 and before I could say I really knew God. I had never traveled overseas or even thought about going anywhere else, yet I had a dream that I was walking in a dark forest with someone, and we left the forest and entered a bright sunny street where we sat and talked. In my dream I saw that the man was my future husband and he was French.

Years later, my husband and I – not yet married – both came to church on the same day. (It was the equivalent of this weekend, now I come to think of it, because it was end of October and the hour had changed). We both arrived an hour early because we weren’t aware of the time change. We both studied the Bible and were baptised 6 weeks later, 12 hours apart. We married five years after that (yesterday was our wedding anniversary). Through the dream, God spoke to me of what was to come – we would both leave the darkness and enter the light through baptism, and I would marry my Frenchman.

This – and some of the other stories here – are all in my memoir, Stars Upside Down.

Visions

In Revelations 1:9-16, the apostle John had a vision that encouraged the disciples who were suffering under persecution. It helped them to see Jesus in a new light.

I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and among the lampstands was someone like a son of man, dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. The hair on his head was white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and coming out of his mouth was a sharp, double-edged sword.His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance.

I also had a vision a few years ago that changed how I saw Jesus. When I was 24, I lost my brother to suicide and suffered a great deal as a result. And even when the sharp grief subsided over the years, I continued to struggle, wondering why God didn’t call me to him earlier when I could have possibly done something to help my brother. At the time I was living in Asia, and I wondered why I had to be so far away from my brother, and too far to save him. Underneath my struggle was an under-current of reproach. God – why did you let him die?

One day I had a vision (not a dream – I was awake). It was not mystical, it was simply a scene that unfolded before my eyes. I saw my brother sitting on the bed, blinds half-closed, shotgun in hand, and I saw Jesus sitting next to him. And Jesus was crying. Through the vision, I came to understand that God lets us make our choices for good or for evil, but he is not indifferent, he is not powerless, and – most notably – he is not absent. The vision changed how I saw Jesus and it strengthened me in my faith.

Nature

When Elijah was exhausted, filled with a spiritual victory, but persecuted and fearing for his life, God spoke to him through the elements of nature. In 1 Kings 19:7-13 it says,

The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

God spoke to Elijah through nature, and it’s interesting to note God’s voice here was not in the power, but in the gentle whisper. In my own life  – as with others – God often speaks to me through nature. I’ll be staring at the clouds, praising Him, and he’ll make the colours throb with brilliance. Or I’ll be praying and the wind will pick up and sweep around me. (He knows how much I love the wind).

But the most remarkable event was early on in my faith, when I was still searching and unsure, I stood in my little garret apartment looking over the grey rooftops of the Paris skyline on a dismal day, and I asked, “God, do you really see me? Do you love me?” At that instant, the blanket of grey clouds parted, and a strong ray of light shone on my face. It was long enough for me to hear, “YES. I do see you. I do love you.” before the clouds folded back together and the sun was hidden. It was a divine encounter for me.

Disciplinary Events

I don’t have a scripture for this. I mean, I have a couple in mind, but none that are quite like what happened with me. One of my favourite personal stories of my walk with God was when I was a young(ish) Christian. I was a couple years in the faith, and old enough spiritually to be disenchanted. I regretted everything I could no longer have and do.

That day, I exited the NYC subway into a crisp winter day and began grumbling against God. I had enough time to tell him I was through reading the Bible, and through being a goodie-two-shoes. I just wanted to find a bar and a guy somewhere and … That was all I had time for because a piece of ice fell from a sky-scraper and bounced off a sloped roof and hit me in the head. At first, I cried from, what felt like, a divine spanking. But it took only about a day before the tears turned to laughter. God saw me. He saw me. And he wouldn’t let me ruin my own life just because I felt like throwing a temper tantrum.

Encouraging Events, Coincidences, and Miracles

My post is long, so I’m combining these three into one header. You know what I mean, though? Those moments where you’re like – woah! That was God doing that! Stories, like this in Acts 12:5-16 – it’s worth it to put the whole story.

So Peter was kept in prison, but the church was earnestly praying to God for him.

The night before Herod was to bring him to trial, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains, and sentries stood guard at the entrance. Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell. He struck Peter on the side and woke him up. “Quick, get up!” he said, and the chains fell off Peter’s wrists.

Then the angel said to him, “Put on your clothes and sandals.” And Peter did so. “Wrap your cloak around you and follow me,” the angel told him. Peter followed him out of the prison, but he had no idea that what the angel was doing was really happening; he thought he was seeing a vision. They passed the first and second guards and came to the iron gate leading to the city. It opened for them by itself,and they went through it. When they had walked the length of one street, suddenly the angel left him.

Then Peter came to himself and said, “Now I know without a doubt that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from Herod’s clutches and from everything the Jewish people were hoping would happen.”

When this had dawned on him, he went to the house of Mary the mother of John, also called Mark, where many people had gathered and were praying. Peter knocked at the outer entrance, and a servant named Rhoda came to answer the door. When she recognized Peter’s voice, she was so overjoyed she ran back without opening it and exclaimed, “Peter is at the door!”

“You’re out of your mind,” they told her. When she kept insisting that it was so, they said, “It must be his angel.”

But Peter kept on knocking, and when they opened the door and saw him, they were astonished.

In my own life, there are too many stories to count. So many “coincidences”. But let me at least mention the time someone invited me to church in Paris (I said no), and a couple months later, her roommate (a stranger at the time) invited me to the same sister church in New York. And I only put two and two together a few weeks after meeting her and realising she had just moved back from France.

There was also that time when I was praying to find a church and this new friend (the roommate of the Paris girl) called me in the middle of the prayer and talked about the Bible when I didn’t know she was a Christian. It was 22 years ago today that I went to church and studied the Bible and have never regretted changing my life. There are so many stories like this. These are ways God speaks to us.

Other People

There is a good reason God has designed us to be in fellowship with one another – why we need church families. He definitely uses other people to communicate with us. For instance, he might use someone to rebuke us, as in 2 Samuel 12:5-7

David burned with anger against the man and said to Nathan, “As surely as the Lord lives, the man who did this must die! He must pay for that lamb four times over, because he did such a thing and had no pity.”

Then Nathan said to David, “You are the man! This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says…

I’ve been rebuked a few times (it was always in love and usually well-deserved). But he also uses people to exhort us as in Philemon vs 8-21. And to praise and encourage us, as in Romans 16:3 and 7 (sometimes it even happens when we think we’re going to get a rebuke instead).

Hosea 11:4 says, I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love. And though we humans are an imperfect representation of God’s love, we can also be a beautiful physical manifestation of it.

His Word

Then there’s the Word. I think it’s important to remember that this is what he gave us. We have it always whenever we want to hear from him. Hebrews 1:1-2 says, In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe.

In the past, all that God’s people had to communicate with him was the word of the prophets. Now we have Jesus. He speaks to us through his death (he took the punishment we deserved), his burial (he took the separation from God and descent into hell we deserved), and his resurrection (not only are we not guilty of our own sins, we’re also not guilty for his death because he is alive)! What he did for us is so profound, God really doesn’t need to communicate with us in any other way. If he does, it’s just a nice extra.

It’s okay to want continual communion with God – to hear his voice. And in heaven we will have it. Uninterrupted communion. But the Word should always be the first place we look to hear God’s voice because this is where he speaks to us. Sometimes we want the burning bush experiences, but our heart is not softened by the Word and we miss out. In Luke 16 vs 27 the rich man asks Abraham for a favour. He asks for God to communicate in an extraordinary way, not just simply through his Word. This is Abraham’s response:

“‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’ 

“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

“‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’

“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

Well someone did come back from the dead and there were many witnesses to it and still people don’t believe. But if we can hear the Good News and content ourselves with that – let God’s Word be the speech that sustains us – what a remarkable faith we will have. It’s all we really need.

Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” (John 20:28-30)

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Do Not Be Anxious About Anything

I woke up feeling anxious again, a condition that usually knocks me out of sound sleep around 4 or 5 in the morning (or in the case of last night – 1:30 in the morning), and in which I spend the next couple of hours trying to talk sense to my racing throughs. No, I’m not even trying to talk sense to them. They’re an unbridled horse, which has decided to make a run for it and drag my sanity behind.

I don’t have any real excuse for this anxiety. My home is not in the wake of a hurricane or a raging wildfire. I’m not ill or in the grip of worry over a loved one who is ill. But things pile on and, one by one, become more than I can handle. And I hate feeling out of control.

Please bear with me as I list some of the things going on in what has turned out to be a longish post. It’s making up for my weeks of silence.

If you’ve been reading my blog for awhile, you know our house construction started in the fall of 2015. It is now the fall of 2017. We’ve had a hole in our living room wall for a year and a half that looks like this.

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2. Yes, this is us trying to prepare a baby shower in the midst of construction. (My second source of anxiety – the baby shower – which ended up turning out great!)

We had hired a 2nd construction company to take care of the water damage from the 1st company, as well as to put in the stairs so we could block that hole in the wall. The second company promised to come, and each week for the past month they put us off.

3. My mom and sister visited around the time the company first promised to come, and I was anxious that they would be here while the workers were here, and I wouldn’t be able to cook or that we’d have to sleep in the living room under plastic. (We gave my mom and stepdad our room).

That didn’t happen. But then, as the shower date grew near and each week they didn’t come, I was anxious that I’d be hosting a shower for 40 people, not only with a hole in the wall and packages containing the stairs in every nook and cranny …

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but also with the room covered with plastic and dust. In the end, I needn’t have worried. The workers pushed off coming so long I was able to host the shower, then pack up everything in the kitchen so they could start the next day. But the timing of it all, and my lack of control over the timing, made me anxious!

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We also paid them to do the kitchen backsplash. I wanted white tiles, but didn’t want it to look like a bathroom or subway station. These Italian tiles are longer and the surface is uneven so they don’t look too industrial. I’m happy with the result.

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So the workers have come back and they punched a second hole in our wall so they can put up the stairs. The before …

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The after.

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Despite the noise we are able to live pretty normally since they made a curtain to protect our space from an excess of dust.

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(I’ll show you what the stairs look like when they’re up).

Edited to say that after having smashed a second massive dangerous and drafty hole in our wall, the workers announced they won’t be back at all this week. And then … who knows when they will come? They’re pouting because they realised it was more work than they had bargained for and so they tried to get money and we said no. Sigh.

4. We’re far from the end in sight of this construction saga however. We decided to sue the original company for abandon because we paid them the next instalment of work and they quit right after that, so the amount they owe us is huge. We sent off the registered letter to start the process, and it came back “name unknown”, despite the fact they’re still registered as an existing company. All hope is not lost because even their insurance is responsible for them completing the job, and we have their insurance certificat. This bit of good news we found out when we met with the lawyer, who also encouraged us with some other promising signs of victory. But I must own that my anxiety level has not decreased, even knowing that we have a good chance for a happy ending.

5. My sprained foot … did I tell you I had a sprained foot? Possibly a sprained ankle too, but I only had the MRI on the foot. It happened early in August and has not healed since. I have a special shoe, but will finish with crutches if the shoe doesn’t work. I feel like my life is one series of doctor’s appointments. It’s been hard to get around, and serve in the way I want to with a swollen foot. I was frustrated not to be able to visit things when my family was here, or host the baby shower without pain. And my sprained foot hinders others things.

6. For instance. I’m planning a party for my husband to celebrate his 50th birthday. We’re hosting it here:

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Because the rental was so expensive, I cannot afford to hire a caterer so I’m cooking for 150 people – mostly – myself. That, in itself, is a bit daunting, but the fact that I’m crippled leaves me wondering how I’m going to pull this thing off. Yesterday, I did a trial run with 5 kilos of chicken. (I’ll need 25 kilos in all). We sanitised the kitchen and ourselves and got to work.

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[image error]This is my trial run for gluten-free.

[image error]Having tasted it, I can attest that the recipe is delicious. But it’s quite exhausting and I need to do that ^^ (the photos with all the chicken laid out) 4 more times.

Let me not exaggerate though – I do have a team coming over this weekend to help, and I have amazing friends who are taking care of all the appetisers. I don’t have to worry about it. I even have a friend who’s a patissière and she’s making the cake, and another who’s a boulanger and he’s making 30 baguettes for me.

But there are the decorations, entertainment, RSVPs, organising the list of who can help bring what (the smaller items such as salad, cheese, drinks, dessert). I was not even this stressed about my own wedding. Okay that’s probably not true, but I don’t remember being this stressed.

One day I woke up a little more anxious than usual (how many cheeses do I need to ask people to bring? do we have enough money for the helium balloons? how am I going to resolve the tension with that friend? did I let that person know how grateful I am for her help? what if the construction interrupts my ability to cook 150 plates of chicken marsala? will the French guests think it weird if there’s no alcohol?) – the list goes on. On that day I got a text. I have a friend who sends scriptures on a semi-regular basis, and that morning she sent this:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  (Philippians 4:5-7)

I just laughed. Do not worry about anything, it said. I resisted the temptation to argue back. Okay sure, God. I won’t worry about anything if you’ll just show me how I’m going to pull this off. You’re awfully silent for the God of the universe.

The thing is, though. God often doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t illuminate the entire path for our benefit. He illuminates only the next few steps that lead us in the right direction. And we need only follow where we see light.

God is working. He is watching over me. In addition to the impeccable timing on the work vs baby shower, he protected Matthieu and my son from getting hit by a guy who ran a stop at 40 mph in our residential town where speed limit is 15.

He caused the architect to submit (and the town hall to approve) a “declaration for planned construction” instead of asking for a construction permit, the former which has judiciary protection with our insurance, the latter which does not. So even some of our legal fees will be covered.

He keeps providing sources of money from unexpected places in just the amount we need. Even though there’s an enormous outlay of expenses right now, we always have it covered.

So why am I so anxious? That implies that God either has no power to solve the problem, or that he doesn’t care enough to do so. Both are false.

I received some encouragement lately above and beyond what I listed just above. I went to the nutritionist for the first time since July, certain I had gained back some of my weight from not exercising. But nope – not one ounce gained. I’m still 13 kilos (28 lbs) lighter than when I first started, a year and a half ago. Even if some of that muscle weight was replaced by fat, it was such a pleasant shock not to have put on more weight. And I can always put the muscle back on when my foot is healed.

I was nourished this weekend. We went to Normandy for a church retreat, and it was so uplifting and beautiful.

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We ate, played, and danced together in addition to the classes. Here are the sisters from when we broke into two groups. We come from so many nations. Some of these women I’m very close to and have been for years. Others are new to the fellowship, and I was able to get to know them better this weekend. What a joy to have this fellowship.

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And there’s more. After the party, my hard work will be rewarded. Matthieu and I leave for Vienna for a short anniversary trip. Never mind that planning it was another source of stress – that part is over. Now it’s just something to look forward to.

We’re going there because I once told my husband when we first married that this was my theme song when I was a young single woman (how is it that the words to this song are still so true today)?! He told me he wanted to take me there because “Vienna waits for you., Jennie”

 

 

There are so many bright points to hold onto amid the anxiety. The other day, I was listening to a Timothy Keller podcast, and he said something striking. The word “hope” has a different meaning in the English language than it did in the original Greek. Hope in English includes some aspect of doubt in its meaning. You hope for it and will stay positive, though there’s always a possibility of your heart’s desire not happening.

But hope in its original Greek form means, “a life-changing joyous certainty“. There’s no room for anxiety when you have this kind of hope. And I will have this kind of hope.

Why, my soul, are you downcast?

    Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God,

    for I will yet praise him,

    my Savior and my God. Psalm 42-5

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Tarte Soleil Appetizer

My physical therapist shared with me this tarte soleil recipe when I told her I was looking for elegant appetizers that can feed a lot of people. I’m planning my husband’s 50th birthday party and there will be a lot of people. Having tested both a gluten-free and a regular version (which I made, but did not taste), I can attest that this one is indeed a keeper.

[image error]And it’s simple! You need two unsweetened puff pastries – in French it’s pâte feuilletée – and I’ve read that Pepperidge Farms makes decent ones. You would need to cut yours in the form of a circle, however, to get the “sun” aspect. (Soleil means sun for the non-French speakers).

Unfortunately, if you’re gluten-free and live outside of France, I’m not sure if you can buy pre-made GF puff pastry. If you know what’s available in your neck of the woods in terms of gluten-free or regular puff pastry, would you leave it in the comments? The information might help others.

Pre-heat the oven to 175°C (350°F). Place one puff pastry on a pizza sheet and sprinkle cheddar cheese on top. I used 200 grams, which is 1 and a heaping half cup. On top of that, I cut fresh chives. I didn’t measure, but it looked like this.

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Place the other pastry on top and a cup in the middle – it’s just to hold the center.  Then divide it into four, leaving the center untouched.

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Then this is where you can either cut it into 12 or 24 pieces. I tried both and prefer 24. It feeds more people and the you get less pastry with your cheese.

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Once you remove the cup, I recommend cutting the long strips with a pizza cutter. A knife can sometimes get caught on the dough and cheese. Here’s a view of the second one I made with regular (non-gluten-free) puff pastry, cut into 12.

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Then, with the help of a small spatula or butter knife, twist each strip.

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It will look like this when you’re done.

[image error]Or this in the larger model.

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Brush the yolk of an egg over the top – mix a half tablespoon of water with the yolk to thin it out just a little. And you can sprinkle that with poppy seeds, or with sesame seeds.

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And you’ll want to add some medium-grain sea salt. Put it in the oven for 20 Minutes, then check on it and turn it for another 5-10 minutes as needed. You’ll need to know your oven. My first one, got too crispy so I’ve lowered the oven temperature for your benefit.

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And here’s the larger, gluten model, not as pretty in my estimation.

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Cut any dough that might have cooked together to separate the “rays” so people can get their part easily. And then you have a serving …

[image error]or two!

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There you have your tarte soleil appetizer!

I’ve been silent lately, I know. I actually typed out what’s been going on, but when I read it over, it sounded like a lot of griping to me so I deleted what I wrote. Suffice it to say, I’m finishing up another edit on my Regency and have two more people to fire it off to, though I’m thinking I might need yet another round of edits for my own sake. That absorbs a lot of my energy right now, even if everything else was going along swimmingly (which it’s not).

But that’s alright. I’m still here. And to quote a French classic movie title : la vie n’est pas une longue fleuve tranquille. Life is not a long, tranquil river.

[image error] Tarte Soleil Appetizer   Print Prep time 15 mins Cook time 30 mins Total time 45 mins   Serves: 12-24 Ingredients 2 flaky pie crusts - in French it's pâte feuilletée 200 g grated cheddar chives - a small bunch, cut (or about 2 teaspoon dried) egg yolk plus a ½ tablespoon water mixed in sesame seeds or poppy seeds sea salt Instructions Preheat the oven to 180°C or 350°F. Spread out one flaky pie crust and sprinkle the cheese on top Cut some chives over that and cover with the 2nd crust. Put a glass in the middle and cut the dough into four pieces, then cut each section into 3-6 more pieces. Twist each strip so some of the cheese is showing. Brush with egg yolk and sprinkle with poppy or sesame seeds, and salt. Bake for 20 minutes and turn for 5-10 minutes more. 3.5.3228

 

Tell me, friends, I need to find a delicious recipe for chicken breast (where the chicken breast is whole not cut) that won’t dry out and has a delicious sauce that everyone is likely to appreciate. Do you guys have any recipes for me?

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7 Ways to Fight for your Faith

It’s been a mad start to the school year. I finally feel like I’m coming up for air, even though I still have a sprained ankle, have an MRI scheduled, and will likely need injections to reduce inflammation, (and also crutches?). In addition, I have pretty severe tendonitis and carpal tunnel, despite hundreds spent on ergonomic solutions and trial after trial to find the right position. (I feel so old). We had a couple false starts to our construction, and although we should have stairs put in pretty soon by one company (though I have to say they have pushed us off for a third week in a row, which is not an encouraging start), we will likely have to head into a lawsuit with the other company who never finished the job after taking the second 40% advance. It has been two years of delays and wind whistling through the holes in the walls and roof during winter.

The back to school weeks were punctuated with meetings (school and conservatory x3), children’s ministry (for which we’re responsible), family visits, medical appointments, organising a baby shower and my husband’s 50th birthday, discussions and decisions regarding the work on the house, and – on my end – more book revisions. I’ve had great input from other authors on my Regency that I started writing a year ago, and though I still have three people currently critiquing it, I’ve printed it out to start doing line edits on what’s already there. This is the fun part of book writing. It’s when my left brain can take over and I can puzzle over sequence, grammar, details, etc. The words are already on the page – they just need to be whipped into shape.

Saturday, we had a guest speaker at our women’s monthly meeting at church. I think I’ve spoken of her and her husband before on my blog. Her name is Lin, and her husband oversaw our humanitarian efforts in East Africa in 2001 from where he was stationed in South Africa. Lin spoke about our church’s theme this semester, which is  “de tout coeur” – in other words, “all in“. She said that it’s easy to be all in when we’re 20 years old, but to keep up that fervour when we’re 60? To go the long haul until we’re 80?

“No one told me 80 years would be so long!” she said. 

In the Olympics, no one ever gets praised for great starts. It’s the ones who persevere who get the praise. To keep going strong in the faith, you have to remember the miracles. Her husband, Mark, went to Africa speaking no French. (I think he began in Ivory Coast, where it was necessary, though he spent most of his time in South Africa). He showed up with a few guys and started sharing his faith with what little French he knew, and they started a church that way. Now there are 95 sister churches throughout all Africa.

Lin was on the New York City mission team with just a few rows of people filling the church. She could never have dreamed that one day, she’d be speaking in Madison Square Garden for the church’s annual Woman’s Day, but that’s what she did year after year. (I’m not sure if it’s still held there – it was when we were in NY). God can do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine.

She shared that a life of faith is not without hardship. When Lin was 28 and newly married (and crazy in love), her husband, Barry, was diagnosed with an incurable brain tumor and was given one year to live. Besides the heartbreak and the fear she felt was also disappointment. She had been living in a God bubble – like, I follow God, and therefore nothing bad can happen to me. It was so disappointing when that bubble burst.

When they got the diagnosis, she met the news with fear and wanted to stay close to hospitals so he could get the best treatment possible. Barry met the news with faith and wanted to go start mission teams. In the eleven years after his diagnosis, they had three children, and moved to four different islands to plant mission teams there. He finally went to heaven in 2001 while my husband and I, newly married, were in Africa. Meanwhile, a short time later, Mark left his post in Africa, and he and his wife moved back to the States. She died of a stroke almost immediately upon their return, and a couple years later, Mark and Lin (who had been, with their spouses, very good friends) got married.

Disappointments come, sometimes like crashing waves. Lin lost two of her brothers, her father, her husband … and her mother has had cancer three times. Lin was a prisoner of war as a child, and the terrorist attacks that are ongoing pretty much everywhere remind her of that time. The polarisation in our country hurts. There are disappointments within the church, from the people who are supposed to love us. She shared that recently, she finally got to the point where she admitted, “I don’t have enough faith to handle where I’m at in life.” She’s a ministry leader and overseas the spiritual well-being of 220 women,  but she said she doesn’t need admiration. She needs to get to heaven so she’s not going to shut up and pretend that everything is okay. “The world does not need more comfortable hypocrites. I don’t care if I lose my job.”

After listening to her speak, I realised that I also don’t have enough faith to handle where I’m at in life. Or … I have faith, but it’s like the shell of a snail that has grow too small. It’s too confining and doesn’t fit anymore. I need bigger faith, more elastic faith to encompass these trials and challenges.

Lin shared that when you’re weak and discouraged and vulnerable, you need to beg for God to fight for you. We’re not stronger than Satan, but God can help us and He is stronger. Jesus has already finished the race. Here are Lin’s seven ways to fight for your faith:

Get back in the Word. No more “scripture lite”. Lin got a new Bible with scripture on the left and blank pages on the right, and she started looking for God’s faithfulness on every page and taking notes. Now she can’t wait for her quiet times. Find new things about God that are wonderful. Start reading the Bible again, and not just spiritual books. (Not all books are “useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking and training in righteousness.”) Memorize scripture – when was the last time you did that? Have the Bibles open in fellowship and share what you’re learning.
Pray for faith. It’s okay to say I have no faith. Help me. Look at the examples in Luke 17:5, Mark 9:24, and Luke 18:8. “Increase my faith!” “Help me to overcome my unbelief!” These were the prayers that were answered. Never stop praying to have faith, to increase your faith. Never give up.
Remember who God is, and what he has already done. In 1 Samuel 17, David remembers how God saved him from the lion and the bear and it gives him the courage to go against Goliath. Here is some homework for you. Take 2 hours and write down every single miracle God has done in your life and thank him for every one. I have done this – it’s encouraging. Lin talked about her 80 year old mom, who lives in gov’t housing and who goes down the corridors every day to see who needs help. She once asked her mom, “aren’t you disappointed to come to the end of your life and not even have a house to call your own?” Her mom just laughed and answered, “I never forgot what I deserved. I deserved hell, and anything that’s not that is good enough for me.” Her mom is happy. Lin told her kids (who promised to care for her when she’s older) to put her in government housing where she can serve people and maybe she’ll be as happy as her mom.
Refuse the thorns. In Mark 4:18, Jesus said the thorns can choke the Word out of us. We need to make radical decisions to keep that from happening. When Lin was single, her roommate grew weary of the spiritual fight and started escaping by watching TV every single day. Finally, Lin came home and stood in front of the TV and said, you know more about those people on TV than you do about the people in your Bible Talk!” Her roommate decided not to watch TV or see a movie for an entire year. She started serving and encouraging people in its place, and a guy fell madly in love with her and married her because he was attracted to how giving she was. We need to know our thorns and get rid of them.
Seek out the faithful. Hold on to the people who inspire us. Be around them – both the ones who are far, but find ones who are near. We need deep spiritual relationships to stay strong in the faith.
Share your faith boldly and consistently. That roommate who gave up TV for a year? She and her husband started a Bible talk with Lin and Mark a year ago. They have since studied with and baptised the head of the ICU unit in their nearby hospital and his wife, who is a nurse. (Mark is a doctor and Lin is a trained nurse). They also baptized another medical graduate and his wife, who is also a nurse. They did the same for another couple and a 23 year old med student. Lin prayed to meet best friends, and she’s studying the Bible with three new women now. Sharing your faith revolutionises your faith. It encourages us for the long haul.
Finally, never give up. God is looking for people who are faithful to him. “For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.“ 2 Chronicles 16:9 Don’t give up. Do what it takes to keep your faith, which is of greater worth than gold. Again, don’t give up.

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