Maybe it is because I am a leftie (une gauchère), or because I do things backwards (reading magazines)… but the marketeer in me thinks the back of Diane's book is most enticing! Satisfy your curiosity by viewing the front cover, here.
Eight Months in Provence, A Junior Year Abroad 30 Years Late. It is never too late to fulfill a dream. CLICK HERE to order the book
TODAY'S WORD: le témoignange
: witness, testimony
: evidence, account, record
FRENCH PRONUNCIATION
=> Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce today's quote, CLICK HERE
Soyez partout charitable, reconnaissant, facile à vivre, et tous vous rendront témoignage.
Everywhere, be giving, thankful and easy to live with, and all these things will be your testimony.
From the words of Bernard of Clairvaux. Read more of Bernard de Clairvaux here.
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE
Saturday, not far from Salon de Provence, we celebrated Marianne and Michel's 50th wedding anniversary. You may remember them from their 40th anniversary, recounted somewhere in this blog. Brèf, Marianne and Michel are the parents of our son's godfather, Fred.
But let me get right to my story, which I thought would be about our two-day fête where one hundred friends converged in an historic inn deep in the Provencal countryside. Until something that happened at the piscine, that second day, changing the orientation of my story, orienting it towards the blond disciple in the bikini.
As Jean-Marc dragged our lawn-chairs over to the pool's shaded area, where two other chaises-longues were already occupied, I said bonjour to the blond in the bikini, figuring she was part of the wedding party. "Qu'est-ce qu'on est bien ici dans l'ombre," I said, as a way to break the ice.
"Ah, vous êtes americaine!" came the warm response.
"How did you know? I could be English!"
"I recognize your accent. I traveled to the States, years ago, on a TWA state-to-state trip, and stayed with Christian hosts.
A couple of the stranger's words jumped out at me and, after a short debate, I decided to hone in on them. (I avoid using the French word for Christian — afraid of bumbling it with the term cretin, which I'm not quite sure of the meaning (fool? hypocrite? dummy?). Playing it safe, I asked my question in English: "Did you say your hosts were Christian?"
I soon learned that the woman and her husband (presently returning to his lawn chair, dripping wet from a swim in the pool) were distributors of Gideons bibles. Remember them? You used to find them in every hotel room – in the dresser drawer. Remember?
"It is hard to find a Gideons these days!" I said, "especially in Europe! But my Mom found one years ago, in St. Moritz! Reading it changed her life."
The woman in the bikini whipped out a notepad. "May I take your Mother's temoignage?"
Around this time Jean-Marc returned, dripping wet from his swim. I tossed him a towel and ushered him to sit down. This was our chance for some hands on healing! Only things didn't quite turn out that way–and thank God for that–as we were beginning to make a big enough spectacle of ourselves….
Having learned that my husband has been suffering from depression for 6 months, with another setback just this week, the woman in the bikini whipped out another item from her purse–a thin volume of Psalms–and flipped to no. 84.
As she read about the Valley of Tears, I marveled at how it was the exact message for Jean-Marc!: lorsqu'ils traversent la vallée des Larmes, ils en font une oasis (As they walk across the Valley of Tears, they will make from it an oasis.)
"That's it! Just the message needed!"
Hearing my enthusiasm, the woman in the bikini offered a suggestion: "Do you know you can sing the scriptures?" And with that, she snapped her fingers to the beat, and sang out the rest of the passage! At first I thought this was kind of cool…until I became aware of the wedding group at the other end of the pool. How chic everyone looked with their fedora hats and fine linen towel wraps. Meanwhile the four of us sat huddled together, dripping wet and singing the Gospel off-key.
Growing increasingly self-conscious, the thought occurred to me: Then again, we might have been chanting La Marseillaise–in preparation for the night's well-anticipated soccer final between Portugal and France!
This reminded me to ask the stranger a pertinent question? Which side was she on? I mean, was she here at the wedding party as a friend of Marianne's or Michel's? That is when she answered,
"Who are Marianne and Michel?"
My eyes shot over to the wedding party, where we might have been stylishly congregating–if we weren't sitting like wet hound dogs, howling hallelujah! Just who were these people, after all? I looked at the couple facing us.
The woman was singing and snapping her fingers, her face the picture of peace and joy. "Don't worry if you sing off key! Just sing!" she said, opening her eyes to look at me. The louder she sang, the more I began to fidget… until some familiar words came to mind:
Aucun prophète n'est bien accueilli dans sa patrie.
A prophet is not welcome in his home town.
I realized it was true. If these four lawn-chairs–this small gathering of believers–was her home town, then my current vibes were making the disciple feel less and less welcome!
I just couldn't help it. Perhaps 24 years in France had made me as reserved as the French? I guess I now worshiped a little more discretely. Concerned Jean-Marc was feeling ill-at-ease (or projecting my feelings on him?), I was about to whisper we needed to be moving on… when the woman in the bikini made our escape easy on us: "I think they are calling you to the lunch table," she said, pointing to the well-heeled party headed to the dining hall.
"Well, it was lovely meeting you!" I said, "Give me a call!" and fast as that I ran to join the group, most of whom were as foreign to me as the two evangelicals I had just ditched. As Jean-Marc and I ate with friends of friends at the table, I looked toward the pool to the couple who had become familiar to me. But they were gone.
The next morning I took my dog, Smokey, for a walk in the forest. The woman's words came back to me, tree by tree: "What's important is love and serving others," and "Try singing the scriptures. Don't worry. It's okay to be off-key!"
I tried remembering Psalm 84, and a few words came back, something about better to be a doorkeeper in God's house, than to dwell somewhere else. But mostly I thought of the disciple in the bikini. And how she could not know the impression she had made on me. And I thought of others, out there, who may have felt just like her, on watching their captive audience suddenly high tail it out the door.
To the woman in the bikini, and to you who are reading, remember this: it did not mean your message wasn't heard. Little do you know the difference your words may have made–to a friend, to your teenager, to your spouse, to your colleague, to your sister, your father or to a stranger. Your message may have found them peacefully singing, to their dog, on a quiet evening, somewhere.
Postnote: I found the woman's phone number in my beach bag. I'm going to give her a call. Anyone who feels free enough to sing her heart out among strangers is someone worth getting to know!
COMMENTS
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I have not had the time to read your blog in quite awhile. I was sad to hear of your husbands depression.
Hoping he finds a way through it. With such a supportive mate …I think he will be OK
Mary Liz
God …such terrible news from France ….those families ….the anguish. Where will it end?
Mary Liz
Kristin, I loved today’s story and have one of my own. My husband and I were traveling in Germany and France in the summer of 1995, and early one Sunday morning were on our way by train from Bonn to Paris. He was a law student from the University of Tennessee and had been selected for the Trans-Atlantic Summer Academy in Bonn. I was a French teacher collecting pictures and interviews to impress my students later. We decided to celebrate Sunday morning by reading some Bible verses quietly together in our private train car. My Dad, a Gideon, had given us a New Testament for the trip which the Gideon’s called “the Swiss Model.” It had the full New Testament in German, French, and English in the same hardbacked volume. Another couple entered the train car, and the lady exclaimed, “You’re not supposed to steal those from the hotel!” I explained that the volume was a gift from my Dad, but the Gideons were always pleased when a Bible went home with a traveler, and they had to replace it.
What a lovely story, Kristin. We never know when and what we might learn from the people we encounter if we are willing to open our hearts and listen.
Am thinking about Nice this morning and hoping no one in your family was there.
My heart is so happy to read this story, Kristi! God sends people to impact our lives in the most unexpected places, faces, and ways. So glad you’re going to reach out to her! HUGS.
YUK!!!
Remember that your ideas about God and christianity are simply ideas. They are not Truths. When you start evangelizing you become a self proclaimed promulgator of something that is no more than an idea buzzing around in your head. As a non-croyant I do not ever try to influence others because what one person needs is not what another person needs. Keep your religiosity to yourself or else advertise your blog as a christian influenced blog.
Carolyn
Personally, I like psalm 139 but whatever works…we cannot get away from God no matter where we go…and one does not even have to be “Christian” to be in Gods presence. If we were a little more ecumenical, the world would not be going mad today.
I pray you & your family are safe & not involved in the terrible tragedy in nice.
P.S. Photos are magnificent and filled with Lfe/God.
Dear Kristi – I am so happy you met these “angels”, especially the day before the terrible events in Nice. On another note, I thought I was the only (leftie) person that looked at magazines and catalogs from end to beginning. It’s something I’ve always done. I pray for peace for France and the world. The tragedy in Nice will not prevent me from returning to France to experience its wonderful culture and to make new friends.
“I do not ever try to influence others” yet you tell the author of a blog to keep her thoughts to herself. Hmm…
Perhaps you should have lunch with
alienor and sargam.
Bon appétit!
I see how so many people are helped and comforted by their beliefs. My experience working as a therapist in the “Bible Belt” gave me a different view. Many people with depression try to cure themselves by doing as their preachers advise, reading passages of the Bible and praying. This encourages more repression of the issues at the bottom of the depression and only creates a sense of failure and hopelessness. Some are even driven to suicide and it broke my heart to hear about them. Depression can be treated but needs a professional therapist with psychodynamic training along with an understanding of medication.
Do you see how divided the world is, by religion?
I remember when I first came to France as a boy hearing the warning “Beware of the Arabs” I did not understand what that meant. I cold not understand how you were suppose to recognize who was an Arab and who wasn’t, and I did not comprehend what I was suppose to pay attention to.Later in life on other trips to France it was explained to me about the racial prejudice that had been occurring since the Algerian war.I have no clue what this man’s motive was. Perhaps it was Isis or perhaps a revenge on a people whom he felt so alienated from.Whatever, this is not a solution.La France vous restez dans mon coeur.
AS per the depression, it is a very tricky illness. It causes immense fear and anguish.I was able to get through two episodes in my life by forcing myself out of my room and pretending that it did not exist. With a little Klonopin, cognitive therapy, and a philosophy of “fake it until you make it” I came out on the other side much wiser and healthier than I ever was.A psychiatrist once told me that these depressions eventually will burn out on their own.Hang in there, mon vieux, things will improve.
P.S.I also prayed just to cover all my bases.
Chere Kristi, Give thanks for the wonderful experience of meeting a disciple in modern day France. It happens rarely and too often we don’t know how to handle it. Please call her. I don’t think you’ll ever regret it.
Dear Kristi, your lovely story makes me think of visiting the Cathedrale in Bourge when a woman began asking us tourists to sing out a note in that vacuous space. We were all too timid except for one young man who uttered a tremulous sound. She began to sing, almost a chanting sound all around his note that became bold as their voices reverberated from the high arches. I always wished that I had had the nerve to participate in that mysterious spiritual moment.
My enemy also is depression ,so I have been feeling close
I haven’t learned to snap my fingers and sing the Psalms but I find them comforting in my quiet backward way. Here”s one I like. Ps.40. “I waited patiently for the Lord’s help: he heard my cry. He pulled me out of the dangerous pit, out of the deadly quicksand. He set me safely on a rock and made me secure. He taught me to sing a new song.
Thank you, Mary. That was a mysterious and beautiful and rare moment. Thank you also for Psalms 40, which I just read aloud to Jean-Marc, via your comment. God bless you and all who share here.
Contrary to the three trolls’s comments above, Dear Kristi, I love your openness about your faith and its role in your wondrous day-by-day recovery and living of life. May they come to appreciate that this is YOUR space. I am a buddhist who happens to revere the Psalms and other biblical readings, even though there’s no ‘God’ as such in my faith. These writings speak to my heart too. There are many honourable paths to human spiritual evolution; it hurts no one to learn about others’ guiding lights. Above all, it is good to seek common ground, and to reinforce the values that we SHARE.
So, for me, this account of a memorable encounter with a couple of Gideon angels who crossed your path at a time that made their enthusiasm stand out is GREAT. You have been blessed. Warm affection and best-most good wishes for continuing to step through the shadowlands of depression together to the sunnier days to come.
Thank you, Kitty!
Dearest Kristi
Some days you move me more than others, like today. You are so beautiful from the the depths of your heart, right to every cell of you! I believe God puts people in our lives to keep us connected with Him. At least he did for me when I met Jan in 1983. For 33 years she has kept me nearer to God. Maybe the bikini lady is your “Jan”.
All the best to you and Jean Marc ❤️
Virginia
Dear Kristi, Thank you for sharing your uplifting encounter with a temoinage. Your blog was better than the national headlines. People sharing the Good News is what really brings hope and encouragement.
I appreciate your openness.
Kay
How exciting! You have been in my daily prayers! It’s nice to know when you get an answer!
Always continuing in prayer…
well said carolyn! if you ae religious keep it to yourself i don’t proselytize my belief or non-belief. this is entirely personal and should stay that way. be fair and respect others. that should be the human code of conduct!
how about devoting some or all your prayers to the dying in syria, the starving in sudan and anywhere else in the world that is a mess.if you do believe in prayers why dont you concentrate your prayers for those unfortunates.n the well off couple living in france can survive their little troubles compared to the dying and starving thruout the world. compassion for the rest rather than the fortunate
A God moment indeed ! The Psalms are full of encouragement and authenticity. I often pray them out loud. Love the idea of singing them. God’s word does not return void. May it bring healing and hope to you and your husband through the Holy Spirit.
What a refreshing story! Thanks for posting about this. It’s rare to meet someone so guileless and open about her faith, and I wish I could bump in to more people like the woman in the bikini.