Faux Pas- lost in translation

• Went to the local butcher to get some hamburger. Didn't know any words except boeuf (which I was guessing was "beef") so I said "boeuf" and then made a chopping motion with my hands. Then I watched, somewhat painfully, as they took a nice steak and put it in the grinder. I got my hamburger. But at that price, I would have taken the steak!!
• Went to the local shop. Couldn't understand the shop keeper's French, so she switched to Spanish. Which I understood. So, of course I responded--in French! Oh she was so confused. As was I. 
• I was trying to say that I needed to ask questions of someone who speaks French as his native language. However, what the nice French guy told me that I said with my limited vocabulary was, "I need a French man." Which was inappropriate.
• Joined a local volleyball club. Couldn't remember how to say, "mine," in French, so I just made some noise.
• First I thought the middle school girls that I played volleyball were asking if I was in college. The next week, I thought they had asked me if I was in middle school (because I learned that the French call middle school collège.) And the third week, I realized they asked me how old I was. "Quel age?" KELL AHJ
• The French greet with kisses on both cheeks. But when one is not accustomed to the greeting, it can be surprising. And then the side of the cheek which you kiss on first becomes very important. Otherwise, you might just get a real kiss.
• Unfortunate translations: Someone called Sydney a Poupée (POO- PAY) which means baby doll. To say "I buy," it sounds like you say "I shet." J'achète. 
• For a whole month in volleyball, I thought people kept yelling at me to get the ball when it came over the net. I heard, "Shan-noo" just thinking that they couldn't say my name well. Alas, this week I found out they were saying, "Chez nous," (SHAY-NEW) which means something like "our house" as in the ball is going to come over the net to our side. Hopefully they don't think I'm a ball hog, and I will stop running after all those balls.
• Dr. Tim Rice, our ministry partner, told the teacher that he was hot (similar to saying he was in heat) instead of saying that he felt hot during one of our first classes, to which she said, "Oh no, you only say that to your wife! Never in class." Ha! He said, "Je suis chaud" (JU SWEE SHOW) instead of "J'ai chaud." (JAY SHOW). 
• Ryan was trying to get the correct pronunciation down in class. After several tries, he said the exact same thing (to his ears) in a falsetto voice and the teacher told him that he did well. Thereafter, all the guys in the class pronounced the French words with falsetto voices. 
• Apparently, there is a phrase in French that they say when you make a lucky shot or the ball rolls over the net which is translated, "you have pasta in your butt." Not sure why that is thought to be particularly lucky, but some days we don't have pasta at all.

First Impressions

We live in a family building in a 2 bedroom apartment on the third floor. The Rices (Tim, Kathy, and Nancy- also going to Vanga) live just across from us. When we arrived, a bunch of other families greeted us and helped us carry our luggage up.

We live on the third floor (left two windows). Our classrooms are in the far left building.

The scenery is gorgeous. The school is in Albertville, which, by the way, I didn't know how to pronounce until our first day of class. ALL BEAR (with the R gurgling in your throat) VEAL. It is a "small" town of around 18,000 located in the French Alps. There are lots of hiking and biking places, and in winter a lot of people ski. We bought a used bike from another student with a child seat for Sydney, and Ryan bought 4 pairs of skis at a yard sale for 5 Euro. (I wonder if they even work for that price?) 

Mon, Tue, Thurs, and Fri we have school in the building next to our family building. The lunch break is 2.5 hours! So I have time to go to the local bakery, cook lunch, eat, clean up, and study a bit before heading back to class. 

Bakery, or boulangerie in French

Living takes a lot more time here than working, it seems. Bread is bought almost  daily... or you need to invest in a hacksaw. Food is made from scratch and eating out is rare. In the supermarket, there is an entire aisle for chocolate, another two for cheese, one for yogurt, two for wine (which is cheaper than water), and a couple for everything else. A bit exaggerated, but you get the point. 

Sydney is watched by Nancy Rice during the time we are at school. She naps a lot during those times, but has great fun with her nounou (nanny). Her best friend is Snickers, the community cat. She now has four teeth, two top and two bottom! She can say "mama, dada, nana, and itty!"

Ryan is hoping to play club soccer to learn French sports lingo and has already joined them for several practices, and I've played recreational volleyball to get out into the community. 

The French people are very gracious with our mispronunciations and very helpful. The school has been around for 47 years, so most of the local shop owners know to help us say things correctly. Hope this gives you a glimpse into our daily lives!

Impeccable timing

We went from 2 cars to 1 bike when we moved to France. I'm planning to blog later about the challenge of getting groceries by bike (needless to say, I'm happy for some form of transportation), but this blog is about our former cars. One was a Toyota Matrix with a rebuilt engine and over 250,000 miles, and the other a Toyota Camry with about 180,000. They were trusty cars- the Matrix indispensable at getting large items or bikes transported and the Camry great for road trips.

We used the Matrix for the last few months to transport boxes and trunks as we moved and packed and moved again. We finished packing our trunks to be shipped to Congo just before we left for orientation in North Carolina, and Ryan used the Matrix to haul them to a drop off point. It was the last time we would really need the Matrix. And sure enough, when we got back from orientation, Ryan put it into reverse on his way to run and errand, and CLANK, something happened and the car started sounding like the engine was working hard. If this were Car Talk, the radio show, I'd be more specific. Some dear friends are going to see if they can sell the car to someone who hopefully likes to figure engines out.

As for the Camry, we drove it over 4000 miles in July/Aug from St Louis to Kansas, Texas, Oklahoma, and back while seeing family, and then St Louis to Tennessee, North Carolina and back for orientation with CMDA (Christian Medical and Dental Association) and Samaritan's Purse. The Camry had never given us trouble, although it seemed to use up oil and the floor was wet when we used the air conditioner toward the end of July/August. We drove to a friend's house the day before we left. It was the last time we would really need the Camry. And sure enough, the day after we left, the Camry died too. It was towed to the mechanic and sold for parts for just a little over the amount I spent on a used bike here in France. 

Perhaps our cars should have died a long time ago. But they stayed running well until we no longer needed them. I can't imagine how much more stressful life would have been with car trouble over the last two months of transition. What impeccable timing! Praise God.

Where is Your faithfulness?

I could see the theme. But I did not understand until later. The day after we had arrived to France, despite a long night of sleep, I still felt very foggy from jet lag. Wanting to start good habits right away, I found a spot on our couch to spend time with God, reading and praying. Great is Thy Faithfulness  was stuck in my head. I picked up one of the journals I had brought and it said, "For we walk by faith and not by sight." Then, I started reading a devotional and it was about walking by faith. From Pilgrim's Progress: "Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God, and that shall be to you better than a light and safer than a known way." Lastly, just before we left St. Louis, our dear friends gave us rocks with the words 'Remember God's Faithfulness' written on them, paralleling the times when God instructed people to set up a pile of stones to remember times of His intervention.
So where is your faithfulness God? I thought. We had prayed for wisdom in packing for months. On our arrival here, I was frustrated with some of what I had packed as it was provided (like bed sheets of which I had 2.5 sets) and frustrated that I had left towels behind because the towels provided were not good quality. We didn't have a bath mat and I had left that at home at the last minute due to weight issues. In addition, we and many many others had been praying for our travels- that we would not have any bags lost and that Sydney would sleep. In my frustration, I could not understand how 3 bags were left. Or why Sydney had not slept well on our long flight. Or why I had put our toiletries into the checked carry-on at the gate in St Louis. Where is Your faithfulness?
I wrote in my journal. "I think what I am being taught now is that perhaps I need a different perspective.It hasn't even been 24 hrs. Maybe I do need the things we brought. We have been provided so much more than we expected from the plethora of toys to linens and a more spacious apartment. We can certainly live without a bathmat. Our main bags were not lost and our bags are going to be delivered eventually- not truly lost. Sydney is napping well despite jet lag. God is not a vending machine- He will provide for us and be with us. He is faithful. Our prayers are heard."
And that afternoon, I understood.  Tim Rice came running over to our side of the family housing and said, "Guess what? Because our luggage did not arrive in 24 hours and the type of ticket we bought, we have LOST BAGGAGE insurance. We have $500 to replace our toiletries and clothing." So we got a ride to the Geant (like the Walmart of France). Because our bags were lost, I now have big bottles of body wash, shampoo and conditioner instead of travel-sized stuff. I have a few more onesies for Sydney. I have new towels instead of used. New shavers, toothbrush and toothpaste. And a new bathmat!! What a quick answer- There is Your faithfulness!
One last thought- this series of events may have taken place anyway, but because I took time to spend in prayer and devotion, I was able to see what God was up to in a much deeper way. And now I can give Him glory for such a cool answer to all of the prayers being lifted up for us. We should truly be praying for His Will to be done because it was certainly better than my Will. Great is Thy Faithfulness!!

Margins

Imagine this: our family of three with 9 large bags/trunks, two 50lb carry-ons, a heavy diaper bag, an unweighed but probably 40lb backpack, and a 40lb thirtyone bag so full that the baby toys are falling off as we walk. Then add the 21 pound baby in a carrier, stroller, and a carseat. Whew. That was our scene as we traipsed into the airport on Wednesday. Then because each was 0.5-1.5 pounds over the limit, we had to shuffle and leave some towels (perhaps one of our visitors over the next year will be able them!) Thankfully, we arrived at the airport in the morning and had dear friends watching/playing with Sydney to make it much less stressful.

Once at our gate, we were told that it was a full flight and we could check any bags to their final destination for free. That was a relief as we shifted a few things around to allow one less bag to lug around. In doing so, we also took out an extra small bag to allow our overflowing thirtyone bag to better function. In London, it took a bit of time to get through security (as we had in St Louis) and we literally walked on the plane going to Switzerland as soon as we reached the gate. 

The above travel scenario is an excellent example of a lack of margins. (Refer to a book called Margin by Richard Swenson.) In the last few years of residency, I have lacked margins so much that I haven't had time to read the Minute of Margin devotional I had been given. The concept is understood by looking at any book and realizing how annoying it would be if the words were written all the way to the edges. There would be no room to write notes in it. Similarly, if I travel all of the time as I did to France, it is hard to accept any gifts, even a card from someone, knowing I have to find a way to pack it. And then taken a step further, in life, if I arrive just in the nick of time (guilty), I have no time to stop to talk or help someone. I may arrive slightly late to one appointment and then get further behind as the day progresses.
On the other hand, living life with margin decreases stress and increases functionality. Margin allows me to take time to see others, to engage with them, and to perhaps stop and help when it is needed. Hopefully I can put up some boundaries so that I can have margins here in France and also in Congo. 

Miracle in Oklahoma

Nothing sends chills up my arms than hearing about a miracle. We have heard several since we have been in orientation here at Christian Medical and Dental Association and Samaritan's Purse. But miracles don't happen only to missionaries that go overseas or to people long ago who are written about in the Bible. Two weeks ago, I was visiting a medical school classmate of mine, study partner, and dear friend. She is in Family Practice in rural Oklahoma and finished her residency last year. She relayed this story to me. 

The baby was stuck. Really stuck. Though the head was out, the shoulders were not budging under the pelvic bones of the mother. We call it shoulder dystocia, and it is one of the few times when we struggle not to panic as minutes can make a difference in outcome. The baby's head was turning blue and no maneuvering was changing the situation. But adrenaline does some amazing things. With an outstretched arm and wrist bent around the shoulder, the doctor pushed on it with all of her might, ignoring the loud cracking noise and ripping of tissue, knowing this was the baby's only chance. And then the shoulders gave in and rotated and the baby was delivered. Blue and limp, but delivered. Babies have amazing resilience. Still, this wasn't a standard delivery. The doctor told the team working with the baby to check an X ray, because with the cracking noise, there was sure to have been an injury. (Broken bones heal easily; the alternative- brain injuries- do not). Remarkably, the baby did very well. There was no injury found. So the doctor turned her attention to the mother. Surely pelvic bones would not be broken, would they? She did a thorough examination and found nothing. The doctor sewed up the tear in the mother, vaguely feeling a pain in her right hand. It is not uncommon to be sore after exerting effort in a difficult surgery or delivery, so she tried to shrug it off. In fact, she did several other procedures that day and the next. But she knew something was not right. Her hand wasn't working anymore. She had an Xray and MRI. It was one of the worst hand injuries her doctors had seen- so rare, in fact, that they wanted to write it up as a case report. But the hand injury was devastating to my friend, the delivering physician. They told her she would never perform another procedure again. A bone had detached completely and one of her nerves (the Ulnar nerve) was nearly obliterated completely with the force of her hand at that odd angle. 

She didn't believe them. Even as she went about her work, unable to use her right hand, she knew that God was going to heal her. She felt like a surgery was going to put the bone back in place and somehow that nerve would regrow in the right place and she would be able to use her hand again. God would heal her through the hands of a surgeon. 

She was in church one Sunday when a recent college graduate asked if he could pray for her. Of course, she agreed. When they had finished, he looked into her eyes and said, matter-of-factly, "You are going to be healed." She replied, "I know. I have been praying about it and I believe that too. I get another MRI this week and hopefully I'll be able to have surgery." He looked at her and shook his head. "No. You are not going to need surgery. You are going to be healed."

Oh no, she thought. I am going to ruin this young man's faith. There is no way that bone can be fixed while floating in my arm.  She even told her husband the same sentiment. Her husband looked at her and asked, "Well, does your hand feel better?" She shook it a bit. In fact, it did feel a bit better, but she dismissed it. She went for her MRI the next day, and then to the surgeon to see about surgery. He apologized profusely. They had the wrong images and he couldn't tell her anything yet. The surgeon called the hospital to see about the mistake but then gave up. He suggested just getting an Xray in the office so that he could tell her something that visit. When the Xray images were given to him, he sighed. "These are the wrong images too. Can you please give me her images?" The technician looked at the surgeon and said, "But I just took the pictures and walked them over to you. They have to be the right ones." The surgeon shook his head, comparing the prior MRI and prior Xrays with the ones he had in his possession now. It was impossible. There was no fragment of bone floating around that needed to be pinned. There was no nerve injury. There was no need for surgery. He didn't know what to say.

My friend started to smile. Indeed, they were the right images. She was completely healed, just like the young man at church had said. She could hardly wait to tell him the next week. "You were right. I am healed, and I don't need surgery." He looked at her, eyes sparkling. "That's my sign! I thought maybe the Lord was calling me to be a missionary, but I didn't think I had enough faith. Now I know that the Lord answered my prayer. I do have enough faith!" 

Her surgeon was a bit disappointed at not getting to write that case report, unable to explain the healing. He asked my friend, "So what do you think healed your hand?" She smiled. "The power of prayer." He smiled reflexively. "Yeah I believe in that too. But really, what do you think healed your hand?" 

So often we believe in the theory of prayer, but when an actual miracle comes from our prayers, we are caught in our disbelief.

She continues to do procedures, with only a twinge of pain at her elbow every once in a while. She is an excellent physician, and if you are ever in the area and need a doctor, I highly recommend her. Her name is Dr. Laci Waner. Praise the Great Physician, Jesus Christ. 

Fear

The timing was terrible. A family member had just asked me to promise them that we would leave/not go into a situation like where the Ebola outbreak is taking place, we finalized our legal will (important prior to leaving the country), and then there came the news. It hit me like a rock. Dr. Kent Brantly, working with the Post Residency Program and World Medical Mission in Liberia had contracted Ebola from his patients. For the first time since we have been planning to go to Congo, fear rushed in, pervading my thoughts. I couldn't help but think about what his wife must be going through. It is so contagious that patients have to stay isolated, even while dying. There is no comfort there. His wife and 2 young children had left the country for a wedding the week before, thankfully. But I could not imagine being across the ocean, knowing my spouse had a 60-90% chance of dying, alone. Maybe that is what is so heartbreaking for me. I imagined him being utterly alone, bleeding internally. What an awful way to die. And his wife would not even be able to see him, touch him, talk with him. I was imagining the worst. And as a new mom myself, the emotion intensifies as I think about not being able to see Sydney again or hold her hand while she goes to sleep or kiss her still chubby cheeks as she giggles. I did not know if I could/would make that sacrifice if it had been me. I was afraid.

We traveled the next day to orientation with CMDA (Christian Medical and Dental Associations) and Samaritan's Purse/World Medical Mission, the very orientation that Kent had gone through exactly a year ago. Again, this was just hitting a little close to home. I anxiously watched the news to see if there were updates. Ryan and I prayed together a lot, and yet I still felt that fear. Vanga hospital was adjacent to the epicenter of a prior outbreak of Ebola.

At orientation, the first question we were asked to share after our names and where we came from was 'What do you fear?' That's easy! Ebola. But no, it was not Ebola necessarily that I feared. It was being ALONE and SUFFERING and sacrificing my life, my dreams, my daughter, my husband, my medical education. Our first session was on Addressing Fears. How appropriate. They started it by giving us a letter. 

Here is an excerpt:

To those preparing for the field:

By now, you know that Kent Brantly, a 2013 post resident in Liberia, has congracted Ebola from his patients. We hurt with him and his family as a body; when one part hurts, we all hurt. But this is not the first time that those called to serve God have suffered. 

We have buried our own children

We have lost friends and coworkers to violence

We have faced death, all around us, on a daily basis...

This is not a Mary Poppins life you have chosen.

But we want you to know that we would choose this life again. We would choose obedience to Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us... We would choose to see Christ's power made perfect in our weakness rather than be known for our own wisdom.

You see, the person of Jesust Christ and the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit are worth more than anything or anyone we have lost. And there is nothing--NOTHING- that can separate us from His love...

He is...

The Wonderful Counselor... Prince of Peace

There is no price that is too high. 

Welcome to the fellowship of suffering.

He is worth it.

Then we were reminded that whenever the words of the Bible tell us not to fear, there is an attribute of God which is attached. Fear not, for I am with you. Don't be afraid; I am your God and will strengthen and help you. 

It has been very encouraging to see Dr. Brantly seem to be making some improvements, and very comforting to know that he was evacuated to the US and his wife can now talk with him and be with him. But I was wrong. He was never alone. God was with him the whole time. And whether he lives or dies, NOTHING will separate him from God's love. Jesus suffered so much for us, and we did not deserve it at all. Dr. Brantly is an example of self sacrifice. I still don't know if I'm that brave, nor honestly whether I would have done the same thing. (Given, I don't treat Ebola in my specialty. However, the exposure to blood is very high and risks of blood borne diseases not to be dismissed lightly) I am grateful that we have a year of language school between now and the time we go to Congo. Maybe that is cowardice. But that is an emotion I feel at this time. We need to keep Kent and his family in our prayers. And we need to keep those still suffering in the three countries who are fighting the outbreak. The patients are all sons, daughters, wives, husbands, and so many have died already. Let them not be statistics as we pray, but let us hurt for them as we hurt for Kent and pray for a cure or at least a stop to the outbreak. Amen.