mountain huckleberry cream tarts

ever since I bought those mini tart pans, I can't stop making tarts...plus, I saw these huckleberries at the Ballard market and instantly thought, "why, I'll make a tart!" and so, I did.

a walk through the arboretum. coffee detour included.

Ava and Cleo.
When I first walked in the door, Cleo was busily scrubbing down the grand piano with a heavy dose of pledge (cleaner). Considering I can hardly walk down the detergent aisle of the grocery store without getting a headache, there was NO way I was going to stay in that house until the room had been properly aired out.
So, we went for a walk to one of the most enchanting places in all of Seattle: The Arboretum.
I love that bridge that goes over Lake Washington Blvd--the one with the lamp posts that belong on Montmartre...
AND, because nothing cures an imminent headache like a cup of coffee, we stopped at Fuel too. The neighborhood coffee station.

sunday stroll on ballard ave.

rain...I guess summer is staying inside

the words I don't know

I'm on my lunch break reading a bit of theology. I don't remember exactly what--maybe some Lewis. My boss's husband Pierre, who is 75 and the spitting image of Santa Claus comes in and asks me what I am reading. "oh, just un peu de theology," I respond.
"AH, bon... te es protestante?" he asks. I tell him that I am. "What is the difference between catholicism and Protestantism anyway?"He wants to know.

I start telling him what I know, which isn't much. I guess the major differences come down to doctrine and theology. Martin Luther began "la reforme," his platform being that we are justified by faith alone, and not by works.

But then, I encounter a big problem. My French vocabulary does not include words like "grace," or "salvation." I try to skirt around this issue by describing grace, but it isn't going so well, because the concept of grace is kind of unheard of, and I find that it would be a lot easier if I could just use the word.

And, then, I have one of those brainiac moments where I realize that "OH my gosh, kendra, you're really quite brilliant because wouldn't you know...the word "grace" is French, and "grace" in French is...um.. "grace." yes, I am embarrased. It's like the time I heard a tourist in Paris ask someone how to say "the museum of modern art." well, it's simple, really. Try, "la musee d'art moderne."

Try, "grace."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, that little mystery is solved, but I still find that there are words I don't know. Inevitably. But the problem goes a bit deeper than that. I can only learn French words if I am exposed to them. Cheese, chocolate, wine...I've got those words down. But then, I try to explain Christian doctrine and I feel clumsy--like I'm rehearsing a monologue from Moliere, using words like "paradis," and "tartuffe..." While navigating the awkwardness present in French spiritual dialogue, I quickly discover that any word I try to use seems antiquated. demode. I do NOT have these words down.

That is because unless you consider my French 342 literature class "exposure," I have not been exposed to many words of religious nature. During my time in France, religion didn't strike me as being a particularly hot topic. Sure, there are holidays to celebrate every saint imaginable, but in general, it seems as though the French have adopted a sort of Nietzchean philosophy and believe that God is dead. And if you live life adhering to that philosophy, then faith is rather obsolete, and so also, it would seem, are a handful of words that are essential to expressing love and devotion to Jesus.

So, I have started listening to sermons in French, in hopes of gaining that necessary exposure to a whole realm of words I don't know. Really, the only words I even care about. If I am able to communicate in French, but am unable to translate the words of Jesus, I think it is easy to assume that my language skills are doing very little to bring glory to God. I listened to Raphael Anzenburger, who appears to be a Frenchified Mark Driscoll (animated and hilarious) and for the first time, I heard words like "salvation" and "worship." The beautiful thing was that the words and phrases didn't come out old, worn out, or steeped in tradition. They flowed out, fresh, new, and full of life. I heard this:

"Aimer Dieu, Aimer son prochain." (Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself)

Pray that words like that would be heard all over France and that people there would be exposed to the truth and love of Jesus!

walking in the spring time

One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun—which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so...And it was like that with Colin when he first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden. That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy. Perhaps out of pure heavenly goodness the spring came and crowned everything it possibly could into that one place.

-The Secret Garden. by Frances Hodgson Burnett