Oops. Let me re-phrase that.
I had the chance to speak at Le Campus, our church's francophone site. And since my talents don't include being in two places at once, that meant I wasn't at the main site.
Spike and I had a blast. We don't speak French - yet - but that didn't stop us from singing along. The words were on the screen and we assumed they were good words. People laughed and chatted easily, and there were several first-timers like us, so we grinned and welcomed each other with broad gestures.
I should make a small correction.
We don't speak *much* French.
But every child that grows up in Ontario takes French for several years in school, and bits of it start to come back when you move to a French-speaking province. Plus - when the anglophone pastor comes to visit, and the francophone pastor introduces her to speak, with a little joke saying, "She doesn't understand a word of what I'm saying right now" - everyone giggles, and someone obligingly whispers a translation.
I didn't mind.
I smiled graciously, came to the front, waited for the translator to get his mic, and then said, very sweetly,
"Pastor Normand has had a little fun telling you all that I don't understand what he's saying. But ... Pastor, you should know that I understand more than you think I do, и может быть, если я говорю по-русски, ты не понимаешь."
("... and maybe if I speak in Russian, YOU don't understand.")
I felt good about that.