Je parle un peu Francais...

One of the things I am rediscovering by trying to just speak Quebecois French in public while we're in Montreal is how humbling it is!  Like Tennesse Williams' "Blanche Dubois" I really DO have to depend upon the kindness of strangers to get by:  kindness and patience as well as a bit of humor, compassion and a shared sense of our common humanity.  A few observations:

+ I probably have enough relearned vocabulary now to get us into a club and order a few drinks - but not dinner. (In fact, this happened last night.) Don't get me wrong, a few drinks are often wonderful but "man does not live by vin rouge alone."  To get us a meal - or shop in the grocery store - requires a lot of patience and a willingness to help on the part of others.  This simple fact has awakened my heart and helped me recall how life can be a walking prayer of gratitude.

+ I am humbled by how much I have forgotten - and how hard it is to relearn 40 years later. This is, you might say, a small act of reclaiming my mortality.  I know conversational Spanish and find that there are times when I throw in Spanglish phrases that I somehow think are French.  Apparently I've been using "tambien" all week when I should be saying "aussi." I didn't even realize it until dinner last night.  And damn if I don't continue to have trouble with the final consonants:  they are mostly silent in French but not so with Spanish.  So, when I come across a contemporary art house based in an old Jesuit parish - Salle du Gesu - I keep finding myself in trouble.  And counting... let's not even go there.

+ This exercise is also helping me live into a longing to be more quiet and compassionate: sometimes I just have to shut up because I don't know the French word - or can't understand what another is telling me - or just feel overwhelmed.  Sometimes I need to practice what I want to say carefully and take the time to get it right.  And sometimes I just have to trust that it will all work out rather than try to control and/or fix it.  This is particularly important to me as we approach the 10th anniversary of the September 11th attacks in the USA. 

I find I am sickened and saddened that this has become yet another commodity to be exploited.  I sense that I have no interest in sharing my thoughts or observations about this with others, but do want to gather with them in prayer.  And it is my hunch that the best thing September 11th has taught me is how easily fear and vulnerability can be manipulated into scape goating and violence - and how my commitment to Christ can become a part of that fear mongering.

Well, Dianne has awakened and we'll start our day together now: a trip to Marche Atwater - a large outdoor market - and then who knows what?  For sure, I'l be trying out more Quebecoois Francais aussi and trusting that my openness and their grace will be sufficient for the day, n'est pas? Check out this clip of Keztory from a Montreal Metro station...