Christmas day in France was one of the most amazingly beautiful things I have ever experienced. The Barrois family (Jenna, Lucie, Francis, and Peggy) invited us over for a day to become a part of their family for a little while, at least that's how Baker and I felt. I can only describe their family as the perfect bridge between the cultures that make up my life and it's passions. The dad, Francis, a huge French film producer had the deep French accent and culture whose every action reflected everything I've ever known to define "French." Then you have Mrs. Peggy, a native of Texas whose roots perfectly reflect the deep south super friendly culture I've grown up in. Jenna and Lucie are the perfect blend of the two: they have the bubbly Southern hospitality of their Mom and the artistic free-thinking personality of their Dad, with accents that any ambitious French student would kill for.
We walked into their home around 1pm for what we assumed to be "lunch." Little did we know that the next ten hours would have such an impact on our heart for the French people. When we walked in the door, we were immediately greeted by Lucie. Her gentle heart, smile and kind spirit immediately made us feel really welcome. I knew that we were meeting amazing people of the Lord, and that God was using them to continue to confirm our calling to a place that can sometimes seem really cold and impersonal. When Mrs. Peggy rounded the corner I was transported back to America, to my southern heritage where everyone knows everyone, waves at each other at redlights, and where someone opening their home to you just because you love the Lord is a blessing that often is taken for granted. Her high-energy comical personality set the tone for the evening, and she continued to pour out her love until we left. A little bit later, Jenna came in. One thing about Jenna's personality that we both noticed is that we didn't have to defend our French or our love for the culture. She spoke with us like we were old friends, never condescending our level of French, passions, or intentions for being here. It's just that so often when you explain to a French person that you're moving to France to tell people about the Lord and that you've spent the majority of your life learning their language and culture all for that purpose, they look at you like you're crazy; like you've wasted your ability to learn languages and intellect on something that's childish and silly. Not these people, they loved us as children of the Lord because they are in the family too. Too often we forget, especially in southern America, where being Christian is sometimes more of a culture than a relationship, that even if we have different culture, personalities, and even language, that God desires that his children love Him and love each other with everything within them, everything of themselves and everything outside of themselves. The Barrois family fulfilled that desire of the Lord. Even Francis, who is 100% French was different from most French people I've met. He appreciated our dedication to the French language, and after a few preliminary questions about why we were studying the language, he never corrected our pronunciation or sentence structure or anything. He was interested in getting to know us as people, not as Americans, not as French students, but as people who just happened to speak his language.
After Jenna, Lucie, Baker, and I scoured Paris for about an hour trying to find a baguette and had Mario Kart throwdown on the Wii, we started to eat. I've never had a stronger cultural experience. We ate lamb, scalloped potatoes, had wine, switched back and forth from English to French, sometimes not even noticing, ate black fuzzy cheese (amazing), chocolate chess pie, litchis (angry strawberries), dined on foie gras, played mexican train dominoes, and laughed and talked for hours. I can't explain how much spending Christmas with the Barrois family meant not only in our calling to France, but just to our hearts for the Lord. We left their house, movies and chocolate in hand, knowing that although we were away from our families for Christmas day, we were with another family, a family whose Dad has lots of kids, and a family who loves without regard to language or country, we spent Christmas as the family of God; and as we waved goodbye and boarded the 95 bus back to Montparnasse, we knew without a doubt that God loved us, that God loved France, and that his people still love each other.
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