Mark Johnston, Connections Pastor
Last night i had a dream that my wife and i were on a vacation in Paris.
We’d apparently met some people there and were about to have lunch at this outdoor café. We were seated at a long table and Angie, miraculously recalling her one year of High School French, was suddenly fluent in the language and deep in conversation with some ladies at the other end of the table. She was probably asking questions about this annoying French detective show she used to watch on Netflix while i was trying to sleep, or maybe if there was a Kohl’s on the Champs-Élysées.
I, who do not speak French, was sitting next to a surly man in a red sweater, feeling alone.
The people we were with spoke English really well, with only slight hints of the Inspector Clouseau accents that i expect Parisians to…
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