The Universe at Work

I spent Christmas Day with Bertrand and Elise Javelaud at their house in the Audois countryside.  It was a beautiful day in a beautiful spot on the planet.  There were nine of us altogether: Elise and Bertrand, their two sons, Nicolas and Yves, Satchiko, Yves' Japanese wife, their four year-old son Yuma, a couple from church, Jack and Linda Comins, and I made up the ninth.  I have NEVER seen a better-behaved four year old than Yuma.  NEVER!  Elise is originally from South Africa, but is now French.  Satchiko is Japanese.  Yuma, the little boy, attends an international school and is fluent in Japanese and French, as one might expect, but can also, thanks to the exposure to his international friends and teachers, speak some English and some Russian. The  language of the day was French, and I am glad to say that under Bertrand's careful guidance I was able to hold my own and participate in the conversation.  I have been thinking a lot lately about language and how much I would miss out were it not for being able to speak, even stumbling and halting as I do.  How would one ever make friends?  How would one ever discuss feelings and opinions or share stories of growing up--all those tidbits of information that are the bricks and mortar of relationships?   What a lucky young man is Yuma to be exposed to language acquisition so early in his life.

We basked in the not-too-hot sunshine and enjoyed traditional French food, beautifully prepared and served.  For those who might be curious, we had aperos (aperitifs) of cherry tomatoes, olives and a glass of white wine.  Dinner began with foie gras on bread rounds, and a terrine of ham and vegetables, topped with cornichons, served with a drier white wine.  The main dish was pintade, (guinea fowl) fresh chanterelles, another side dish of mushrooms, haricots verts, (green beans) a cooked fruit that I think was red currants, but was very piquant, almost like unsweetened cranberries, a side dish that resembled stuffing, but was primarily meat, and to accompany this, a dry local red wine.  After the main dish, we enjoyed salad, and then a cheese course.  I have never enjoyed a cheese as much as I did the soft one Elise served.  The Roquefort was good, but the nearly runny soft cheese will forever stand in my memory. 

After the cheese course, we took a break from the food.  We were expected to share something--a reading, a story, a Christmas carol, a story of Christmas past.  Bertrand has an endless supply of jokes, many with a holiday theme.  I sang the children's carol, The Friendly Beasts.  And yes, I learned it in public school.  Elise and I both sang Once in Royal David's City.  

Dessert was the traditional buche de Noel, the yule log cake.  Delicious!  Elise suggested a walk, and I jumped at the chance.  Bertrand led us down some farm roads, past vineyards, both active and abandoned.  We came upon a man coming to feed his chickens a special meal for Noel, and he and Bertrand had a most animated conversation about whatever was getting his chickens.  Having that walk was just the tonic for helping to digest the meal and to get the blood flowing again after sitting so long at the dinner table.  I wondered, as I observed the fields and the stone walls, just how many generations of French had walked this road;  who were they and what were their stories?

Upon our return to the house, we had a cup of tea and yet more goodies.  Elise makes a "bread" with nuts and swirls of chocolate.  There were local chocolates from the confiserie, and dried fruit and confections of almond paste.  Not just the meal, but the whole day was a feast for the senses.

Today I had brunch with a man I met in the photocopy shop on Rue Aime Raymond earlier in the week.  His name is Roland, and he was just some "random guy" with whom I made a connection in the course of running an errand.  As it turns out, he happens to be very good friends with Elise and Bertrand.  Coincidence?  I don't think so.  I think this is the way the Divine works when my heart is cracked wide open.  It's along the same lines as the fact that my next door neighbor here in Carcassonne lived in my old hometown in Maryland, and that we discovered that we have friends in common.  I had no idea when I struck up a conversation with Roland and gave him my card and phone number that he knew this couple with whom I was going to spend Christmas Day.  Carca is a small city (about 48,000 people), but it's not that small!  I was dumbfounded to learn that he and the Javelauds know one another.  

Brunch today was exceptional and I made some new friends, but that story is for another blog.  I came home and marveled at the connections I am finding here.  The Universe and the Divine are leading me.  As I said, I don't believe in coincidences.  I believe that I am exactly in the place where I belong.  My heart tells me that every day, and today, the Universe nodded agreement.