Mon St. André

I would just like to take a minute to write a little devotional to mon Saint André (mohn sahn-t ahn-drey: my Saint Andrew). Not only is this particular saint incredibly unique, handsome, and loving (as well as a charmer of animals big and small), but we've also had the opportunity to get to know one another pretty well these past few months and--I think it's safe to say--we're pretty crazy about each other too.

In part because of this new-found André obsession, I think it's fitting to be living in a town whose patron saint is St. André. Every day I pass by numerous streets, buildings, and parks which--literally--have "Andrew" written all over them. 


From my bedroom window I can hear the church bells of l'eglise St. André (leh gleez sahn-t ahn-drey: The Church of Saint Andrew) ring every 30 minutes, reminding me of all the times Andrew has called me on the phone with a caring and supportive (or, sometimes, fight-inducing) word to say. I pass by le bar St. André (leh bahr sahn-t ahn-drey: Saint Andrew's bar), watching couples sipping wine and coffee together as I think back on all the wonderful dates and discussions Andrew and I have had over a bottle of wine (or absinthe cocktail). Then, of course, there's the massive bouquet des fleurs de lys (boh-kay dh flhur dh leez: lilies) Andrew had delivered to my door today. Now, even as I breathe in and out, the aroma of the flowers is a reminder of how romantic and caring Andrew has always been to me. If Andrew was ever in doubt over whether or not I think about him, he shouldn't be worried. How could I possibly forget him?! He's everywhere!


Long distance relationships are never easy. I don't think either Andrew or I pretend to know where our future together lies, but in the meantime it's nice to know I have a friend and lover out there, somewhere, who is thinking of me as much as I think of him.  When I was single for ever so many countless years, I had faith that a good, sweet, romantic, beautiful man was something that only existed in fairy tales. But, what do you know: Andrew exists in real life.  My life.  And that, I think, is something worth shouting "hallelujah" to.

Now can I get an Amen?!