Quebeqoi?

Wide-eyed and red faced I looked at Noemie, taken aback as she quickly spoke at me in French this evening. For the last 3 months my mother has gushed about a woman she works with who is from Quebec and at work has gushed about my soon-to-be-abroadness. Naturally, it happened that Noemie wanted to meet me before I left so we could talk French at eachother so I made my way out to Phoenix, absolutely thrilled to get to speak French again after a summer talking about lefse and bars in the land of bland. It took a couple of minutes to adjust to listening and responding in French before my face returned to its normal color but we babbled for a solid twenty minutes after that. Finally work beckoned her away again but goodness did it feel good to awaken a few slumbering vocal chords with such vigor!

I've always marveled at the idea of language and that we can connect to one another through a string of sounds and that these melodies and disonances somehow attribute meaning to each miniscule aspect of life. This summer I often asked campers what language they think is spoken in Heaven and in which language God hears our prayers. I am excited to see God's people transcending language to meet in mutual praise as I continue my adventures.