Thursday, December 31, 2015

Breaking News: Brand New Year Coming Up!

Starting a new year brings up a clean slate: new beginning, new projects. I appreciate this opportunity and the promise of new discoveries. Here is a few things that happened as 2015 was getting to a close. 

I wish you the opportunities of plans that mature and lead to achievement – faster than mine. I wish also for joy and happy moments throughout the year! 



Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Three Dogs means 12 Paws

I mentioned Denali, our new black puppy girl, in earlier posts. After a time of reluctance (she loved being the only dog of the house) Sitka, our older girl, accepted Denali but we could tell it was not the best match. Denali has such a yearning for play times and games that Sitka, who is 10 year old, cannot fulfill. After 30 seconds of fun, Sitka clearly shows she is done.

When we found out that Debbie, our breeder friend, had a new litter, we intensely looked at the pictures.  Irvin immediately melted when looking at a male pup, chestnut colored with the white spots on his chest that means that he was destined to be a family pet, not a show dog.



I never had a male dog, and I felt out of my comfort zone with this little guy for a while. But it was only fair that Irvin would make the pick, we have had three females so far. He was feeling a little lonely being the only man at home!

And this is how, in August, we brought Kenai home. Sitka was exasperated. ANOTHER dog??? Denali was delighted.

Sitka assessing the new comer. This was the day we brought Kenai home.


Then the pack found its balance. Sitka is the Alpha girl who has the last word if there is conflict. The two pups flatten themselves on the ground if she growls. Denali and Kenai play all the time together, chewing each other ears, in the house or in the yard. There is chaos and lots of movements but we are not complaining. It is all good. 

Coriander and Turmeric

Since remission, I have been reading a lot about cancer. I noticed that from one book to the other, turmeric, the bright yellow spice that gives its color to mustard, was mentioned as a great anti-cancer substance. I started looking for some here.

It took me a while to find it because I was looking for “curcuma”, the French name. Usually, from one language to the other, you can guess the names of the spice, from thym to thyme, romarin for rosemary, coriandre for coriander…. No curcumay or coorcumee – I checked and yes, turmeric it was.

Ok, so when you find turmeric, you need to absorb it with some pepper, it enhances the anti-cancer properties. Problem : curcuma on its own is not that good. Pepper does not help.

So I went to recipes that would use turmeric harmoniously. And entered in my life… Indian cooking. Turmeric is one of the spices used for curries, along with coriander, cumin and Cayenne. Then there is fresh ginger, cilantro… all that is very, very good.

I am trying recipes and this is a delightful exploration to be followed in 2016…


Monday, April 20, 2015

Visiting Dad

River is a two year old black cocker spaniel. He lives at our friend’s Debbie from whom we got Tashina, our first beloved girl. We stayed in touch ever since. River is the Dad of our three month old puppy Denali.


We organized to visit after Easter and arrived early afternoon with our two girls. Debbie and her family live near Olympia – an hour south from us.

River is a young and enthusiastic boy. This scared Denali a bit – she withdrew and sat on my shoes. 

However Sitka (9 year old) appreciated River’s interest and was gracious to him.


Once the excitation fell down a bit, River showed some friendliness to Denali. She looks like him but her white spots that we like so much make her one of a kind.



A litter was recently born at Debbie’s. It did not go very well. Two of the four puppies did not survive the birth. The mother refused to  breast-feed the two others. She was so aggressive that Debbie took them away, concerned that she would kill them. Debbie started feeding them with a bottle (every two hours!). 
Then she had the idea to introduce them to another dog she had – a mother who had litters before and took good care of her puppies. Success was immediate. The new coming mom sniffed the puppies and started licking them. They soon became inseparable. “I asked the vet if she might have some milk, explained Debbie, and he said it was impossible. But I saw it : she does have some milk coming out!”



Debbie showed us the puppies through the window because they are not protected by vaccines yet. As we were taking picture, the surrogate mom was inside, looking at the pups and us. She was attentive and serene. 

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Holy Week, a Week Apart

Holy Week is an essential time in the life of a church. Each year, the same question comes up: how should we best present the last hours of the life of Christ, so that we remain faithful to the biblical message without repeating a routine, year after year? How do we celebrate those ancient events while making them current and relevant to the 21st century parishioners?

Thursday – Last Supper and Clean Hands

Thursday is Maundy Thursday – from latin “Mandatun” which means “commandment”, referring to the “new commandment” given by Christ during the last supper.

In the Gospel of John, in lieu of the command to eat the bread and drink the wine – representing the body and blood of Christ – we find Jesus insisting on washing the feet of his disciples. They are embarrassed. This task belonged to the least of the servants in a traditional household. Jesus  was teaching them an attitude of service toward each other that would be instrumental in bringing the Kingdom of God closer.

Irvin and I did not spend this evening together since CIF and UPPC both had planned a potluck dinner that night. There would also be a time of worship and communion. At UPPC, we also would wash each other – not feet, but hands. This was a suggestion that came from my experience at CIF. We did so a few years ago.

Washing feet was a tradition at the time of Jesus, where everyone had to walk their way to their destination on the dry and dusty paths of the Middle East. People would walk with simple sandals or with bare feet. Today, in our western world, feet don’t need a washing after we get to our destination. Our hands, however, are the ones requiring cleaning. They represent our service and our actions. They also express our desire of transparency and sincerity. Historically, we shake hands to demonstrate we are unarmed.  

I checked on what people were saying on that topic on Christian websites. I was surprise to find a controversy about it! Those who insisted on washing feet felt that doing otherwise was betraying the Scriptures. “Jesus did not wash the hands of his disciples! Let’s dare and follow his example rather than focusing on making parishioners more comfortable by not requiring they let go of their shoes!”
Sometimes, I feel we should also dare contextualize actions and traditions.



Friday – the Cross and the Gift of Freedom

Nine stations were put together in UPPC sanctuary. Each of the stations represented a step on Christ’s journey toward the cross on this Friday, from the garden of Gethsemane to Golgotha. At each station, participants were invited to reflect on the trials endured by Jesus and on their own path. This was a project that required an enormous amount of work, in particular for the team that physically put together each station. Lots of visitors came and appreciated this journey in the heart of Good Friday.  


That night was also Passover night. Irvin and I drove to Seattle to be part of the celebration with my Jewish family. As my aunt Diane mentioned, Passover takes place this year right in the middle of Holy week, and on a Friday, that is on Sabbath night. We praised together God the liberator with prayers in Hebrew, which is a delight for me and we dipped the Karpas (usually parsley) in little bowls of salt water. This is a reminder of that in midst of tears, we can also already taste hope and renewal.


We praise God who frees us and we are invited to become aware of the responsibility that now lays on us : we must use this freedom to free our neighbors. If they stay oppressed, we are not truly free either.

I admire the way the liturgy is waived throughout the meal, and how children become part of it, not simply observers, but actors. The youngest at the table asks the ritual questions, starting by “Why is this night different from all the other nights?”. Children are also tasked with looking for the Afikomen, a piece of matzah (flat bread) that has been hidden previously. This Afikomen will be the dessert.


But we had more than a piece of matzah for dessert. We enjoyed the fruits of the extraordinary talent of our friend Emma Notkine, whose lemon and pistaccio cake (a flour-less cake, of course) was a true work of art. This was high cuisine – and Emma is hardly in her early twenties!


Saturday – a pause (and for pastors : time to feverishly write their Easter sermons)
And since I was not preaching, it was a welcome pause for me.

Sunday – He is risen.

Three services that morning at UPPC, and for those who work there, a parking further away to make room for the visitors. A little girl in a pink dress from a fairy tale was baptized at one of the services and she admitted that she hoped that the bruise she had on her face (a confrontation with another child during recess that week) would disappear with the baptismal water. 

During the contemporary service, a rap in the middle of the opening song, not exactly my kind of music, but this one was superb and occasioned an ovation from the surprised and delighted crowd. 


And Pastor Aaron, with the same enthusiasm, preached three times about the way God reaches us best when we are in the ground, in the deepest hole, in a grave like Jesus was.

It was Easter.

Then the discreet ritual that follows Easter… Rest for exhausted pastors. 


Monday, March 30, 2015

Challenges and Metaphors of the Black Dog

When you like communicating and sharing, having a black dog may be tricky. You want to show off the young animal, share the emotion. But the black dog is difficult to photograph. If the light is not right, your picture shows a dark shadow with imprecise outline.
In what direction is the tail or the head of the animal in this picture??
Of course, you can play with the settings, lightening things up, but then you get a grey puppy in the midst of a washed out surrounding.

Plus, the model is fast and does not get that she should stay still for a short moment for posterity (and the popularity of the parents on facebook).

Here, two seconds ago, there was a puppy exquisitely laying on her bed
So since she is difficult to show in a photo, I imagine how else I could represent her.

Of course, if she was a dragon from the “How to train your Dragon” series , she would be a Fury. Isn't the resemblance uncanny? 



If she was an underwater creature, she would be a sea urchin. I grew up swimming in the Mediterranean Sea and know all too well the painful encounter with sea urchins, when you step on them while swimming, just the day you did not wear your plastic sandals. 
This is quite the experience with Denali. She rushes over you, all tenderness and love, and after a moment of cuddling, she nips at you with her needle-like teeth!


So it is not that easy to share images of our dragon-urchin. But I have to admit: living with her and seeing her grow is a joy. You will have to take my word for it. 

Morning Doe, Bad Blood and Indian tacos

What happened this week ? Looking back.

Morning Doe
Last Sunday, as I was going to UPPC for worship, I found myself right in front of a doe, or so it seemed. I had just exited the highway. She was walking on the curb, coming from nearby woods I suppose. She crossed the road behind me. 

Sometimes, I find myself crossing path with a coyote or a deer, a reminder that so many neighborhoods have been built recently on woods where they would roam. 

Those encounters are always a surprise to me, and now that I know a little bit about the Native American perspective, I see and enjoy them as a smile from the world unknown.

Bad Blood is not French – or is it?
That Sunday, after the first worship, there was a blood drive in the gym. I always volunteer for those. I like the connection it creates between two persons who will never meet, one receiving the blood she needs from the other. And I am Group O, universal giver, which is not as frequent here as it is in France.

So I went and talked to the nurse who was welcoming people. Alas, the process stopped here for me. I am French. I lived in France in the 80 and 90’s; that was when the mad cow disease broke out. There is no way to detect if I was contaminated and could develop the Creutzfeldt-Jacob disease one day. So the nurse declined my offer. She was sorry and was wondering how to soften the rejection. She had a hesitant smile.
“Do you want a cookie?”

Indian Tacos Opportunity

Every quarter, the Church of the Indian Fellowship organizes a fry bread sale. Fry bread is a comforting Native specialty. The piece of fry bread can be used as a tortilla, a foundation to layer refried beans, ground meat, shredded lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. It is then called Indian Tacos.

On Friday, we had a big crowd. I was delighted and grateful to see friends from UPPC join the connoisseurs!

The next day, the sale continued. I made a buffalo stew that can be eaten with a piece of fry bread. It slow cooked over night in a sauce of tomato paste, soja sauce, Cherry vinegar and Worcestershire sauce, with homemade beef stock.

Good bye , Mark
Since December, UPPC has been focusing on the Gospel of Mark. The sermons have followed the flow of the Gospel, we had classes on Wednesday night to go deeper. Each week, I would write a few paragraphs on the chapter we would get to, followed by questions for study. It was hard work…  and that also became a joy to do it when I would feel I grasped a new angle or perspective and it would become this text included in the bulletin.

But the journey is about to conclude. The series will end with Easter Sunday. Relieved and a bit sad, I just wrote my last text on the 16th chapter. Mark, in the earliest manuscripts, concludes with the women overwhelmed after meeting with the angel of the resurrection. An ending that is also a new start in the sun rising light.

We are entering the Holy Week… To be followed…