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

{aquarium}

In awe.

of an octopus, propelling through water. caged, but worshiping our creator God, I am convinced.

of coral reefs, loudly exclaiming His work-- a forest and sea field of underwater roses and poppies.

of His sense of humor displayed in all that is odd--a fish with a very protruding nose; a single whisker hanging off the end for good measure. Another fish with black and white stripes, likely an escaped convict, lurking behind rocks and seaweed.

of intelligent design.

of the beauty of it all.

of seeing God everywhere; of knowing Him as my all in all.

oh brother(s)

Madeleine and Lewis strike again...giving me way too many words for thought. So, I'm sharing.

The gap between our “real” and “actual” selves is, to some degree, in all of us; no one is completely whole. It’s part of what makes us human beings instead of gods. It’s part of our heritage from our mythical forebears, from Adam and Eve. When we refuse to face this gap in ourselves, we widen it. -Madeleine L’Engle

Mrs. L'Engle reflects better than I’ll ever reflect. Even though I am a reflective person, I end up reflecting in circles, creating spirals in my head until I swirl out of clarity and into a deep, deep confusion. I’ll wonder so hard that I’ll forget what I’m wondering about. That kind of thing. Focus. Focus. I tell myself to focus. Today, I’m focusing on Madeleine’s words because it happens to be what I have been aimlessly wondering about, though I didn’t know it until now.

What is the difference between “real” and “actual” anyway? A gap cannot exist between two things unless those two things are distanced from one another. So, how is this distance achieved between two words so seemingly synonymous?

What is an apple, actually? It is a fruit, varying in color and crunch.

What is an apple, really? It is a fruit, varying in color and crunch, which at its core (no pun intended) is composed of atoms, which are composed of vibrating strings…perhaps? Just a theory…

An apple is really and actually an apple. I am really and actually me. I am actually a human being with blond, curly hair, green eyes, 5’4”. I am really a human being, created in the image of God, created to glorify Him, created to love Him and others. I am really and actually both of these things.

Maybe we use these words differently. Maybe that is why there is a gap between them. Just a theory. Regardless, I have just used the theory, and for the purpose of this writing exercise, I have formed a gap between the real me and the actual me. It is possible that Madeleine would concur that if I merely admit that there is a gap for the “purpose of this writing exercise,” then I have made no attempt to face it at all. But, I am writing about it with the intent of discovering, upon some sentence or word, the severity of this supposed gap within me.

I think I may be on to something, actually. (Now, I hesitate to use that word—actually…) It is true that when I begin to question who I really am, I take my imaginary blackboard and my imaginary chalk, and write words: except, I won’t really tell you what words because they may not be the words that others would use to describe me. And it is most unlikely that God himself would use those very words to describe his creation. The very fact that I account for that discord speaks volumes about the distance that I have formed between my real and actual self.

There is a gap.

I am not completely whole. Undoubtedly. Who would Jesus say that I actually am? Because, with all of my being, I believe that through HIM, we can be whole. I suppose that on my journey through life, my purpose is to minimize; to close fast the gap that exists between who the world says that I actually am and who Jesus says that I really am.

Actually, I am sinful, depraved, selfish, and needy. I despise my nature. But, BUT, really, in all reality, I have Jesus in me and I am REDEEMED! As an image bearer of God, I am composed of the very things that make up who He is. Because He lives in me, I have hope. I have love. I have courage. I have strength. I strive for compassion. I live for Him. I am loved.

And this is where it gets infinitely more incredible. I've been reading C.S. Lewis' Great Divorce, and realize that he's trying to convey this very truth! I will explain, but first let me just say that great and awesome things happen in this heart and head of mine when two authors whom I admire end up trying to say the same thing. It serves as beautiful proof to me, that we are (if we're fixing our gaze on the right thing) attempting to reflect the Truth that is God. In his book, Mr. Lewis writes:

“Hell is a state of mind, ye never said a truer word. And every state of mind, left to itself, every shutting up of the creature within the dungeon of its own mind—is, in the end, Hell. But Heaven is not a state of mind. Heaven is reality itself. All that is fully real is heavenly.”

Madeleine l'Engle calls this distance formed between actual creation and real creator God, “the gap.” C..S. Lewis calls it “the great divorce.” Jesus calls it sin. In the end, that is all it is. It is our pride. It is our desperate attempt to perfect our own state of mind instead of residing in the beauty of the truth and reality that is Jesus.

He is the only thing that can close that gap; rectify that marriage. Redeem. And he prays for it in John:17

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they may also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them, and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me.”

And then, we shall have it. The closing of the gap, the antithesis of divorce, a glorious marriage of hearts and souls, pursuing the richest and most satisfying of loves. We shall be one. It will be real. There will be heaven! And as Lewis says so beautifully (in the weight of glory, I think) we will "mingle with the splendours," that we now only taste.

une jolie fleur rouge

Oh, the things we'll hear! (if we only listen)

"my roots spread out to the waters with the dew all night on my branches, my glory fresh with me, and my bow ever new in my hand. Men listened to me and waited and kept silence for my counsel. After I spoke they did not speak again, and my word dropped upon them. They waited for me as for the rain. And, they opened their mouths for me as for the spring rain. I smiled on them when they had no confidence and the light if my face they did not cast down. I chose their way and sat as chief and lived like a king among his troops, like the one who comforts mourners." (Job 29: 19-25)

"my roots spread out to the waters.."

I imagine the Tree of Life--and not merely the tree, but it's ever pervading roots. Roots that extend, extend, sending ripples of effect to the earth around. They reach, reach to the furthest waters, thirsty. And while they reach, they cannot help but disrupt, causing pathways to crack; the very dirt to tremble.
And where there is water, there is a reflection. The mighty tree is mirrored.

"men listed to me and waited and kept silence for my counsel"

Do I keep silent for his counsel? I try, but not often do I succeed. I am far too distracted by the airplane that passes, the child crying in the distance. The butterfly. But, all of this is HIM--His amazing creation. Even the plane that flies--only because the bird flew could we ever even conceive of something so clever.
Because He is, we are. Because He speaks, we must listen.

"I smiled on them when they had no confidence."

There will be a day soon, I swear, when I cry at those words. I will be so overtaken by the lack of value I assign myself, that I will soften at the thought of his face, smiling down on me, as though his confidence in his creation is easily able to surmount any deficiencies we encounter. Because, his confidence in me does do that; it is that strong.

"I lived like a king among his troops."

This is the king we serve. Not one, who with a loud voice and the sweep of his hand sends out an army destined for arduous battles with the evil one; destined for countless days of defeat. No! he says, "we must fight." We. And he is out fighting with us, equipping us with sword, shield, and abundant amounts of love, hope, and faith.
He is humble, good, just, and it is truly for his end; his glory, that we fight.

seattle and its parks

I am
overwhelmed by this city...by its natural beauty; by its people... And here I thought I wasn't a city girl.

I'm not, actually. If you dropped me in the middle of paris and told me I had to live there for 5 years, I'd have a hard time. Sure, the croissants and cafe au laits would sustain me for a good 6 months, the musee d'orsay for another 3, but then...I would long for the mountains. Or, at least a view of something more than buildings and metro signs.

This is why Seattle is so appealing; so out of the ordinary. It's a full blown city with buildings and metro signs; one-way streets and pedestrians galore. But, no more than 11 minutes by car from where i presently sit, I am on the beach, sitting on a piece of driftwood, watching sail boats--the olympic mountains, a dramatic backdrop.

I was dead in my sins, but have been made alive in Jesus!

Sometimes, I forget that. I get so caught up; so horrified by effects of my sinful nature, that I miss the entire point. The tomb is empty. Jesus is alive. And, so am I! That does not mean that I neglect daily repentance. Martin Luther did not in vanity usher in the reformation by writing in his 95 thesis, the Christian life is one of repentance. He was right. We are not saved by our works, our deeds, or our moral lives. We are saved because Jesus loved us first! And in that, I rejoice! And, because of that I have every desire in the world to put to death any sin that manifests itself in my life, and that desire, I owe to him and his redemptive work on the cross But, I won't win every battle. And, by His grace, that is OK. The war has already been won. Jesus is the victor! And,I am on his team. I can't forget that. How could I? It's the most beautiful thing ever. Ever.

the sprawling metropolis of Index, Wa

I wish I was a fashion photographer

seriously, that would be so incredible. But, I also wish I was an interpreter at the US embassy in Paris, or the writer of a terrific novel, or a downhill skiing olympic athlete, or a mountain expedition leader, or the owner of a delightful bed and breakfast, or first chair in the symphony, or on the creative team of some huge undertaking...

Yes, this is my problem. Always has been. Always will be. For heaven's sake, i was a french major, and that was only because I couldn't choose between writing, linguistics, music, anthropology...and I happened to think French was darn pretty.

I like what I'm doing now. I get to speak french everyday. Work with kids. But, I know it won't be what I'll do forever. I won't do anything, except love Jesus, forever. And, I trust that because I love him, that will be enough. I trust that in whatever I do, the only thing that will matter is that He is glorified. The end.

ballard locks