Tales from an international dog ... Part 2

Photography by Tiara Coules

To acquaint you further with life here in France, let me just begin by saying that owning a dog is a very 'social' pasttime.  We go everywhere with our masters!  Last year John and Robin took me to an enclosed café while they waited for Ariana to complete her SAT's in a neighboring town and the waiter brought me my own bowl of water to help pass the time.  (I gratefully thanked him, but unfortunately his pant leg got wet in the process.)

Walks are definitely a daily ritual for each dog owner and while I am enjoying all the smells that the world has to offer, John will be talking with his "guy gang" of other dog owners about everything from the weather to gardening.  But for me, the best part of the walk is the moment in which John or Robin will release me from my lead and allow me to run free down the dirt path and retrieve any stones that they throw my way.  To be honest ... this is the greatest thrill of my day!

But the other week John and I were startled by an unexpected animal out for a walk, as well!  As we were playing "retrieve the large flying rock," John spotted a black pig come out of the adjacent field and begin to follow us.  As the pig got closer, John began to realize that this was not the local farm animal that had just escaped, but instead a wild boar that in fact can be quite dangerous, even to humans.  He quickly leaded me back up and we started to walk faster not knowing what this fellow would do.  The funny part was that for some reason this young wild boar really wanted to walk with us that day and quickly picked up speed to catch up with us.  It must have been a funny sight to watch as we too picked up speed trying to advert any possible danger.  We came home that day winded from the brisk walk, but filled with excitement to retell our walking tale!

Me ... (Tzatziki) waiting for the next adventure

Tales from an international dog ... Part 1

My many tales begin when soon-to-be empty-nesters purchased me from an English lady living in France and then brought me into their home.  You see, we live in France, but my owners are not French … so begins my international lifestyle.  Instead, they live and work here in southern France serving in a church filled with people from all over the world.  I have a feeling that I will fit right in with these other internationals, whether they be human or not!   

I thought that I would begin to record some of our daily happenings, because frankly … things keep happening! I also thought that these little nuggets of adventures and tidbits of life would bring a smile to your face as you hear what life can be like living in another country & culture. 

Our first trip down memory lane occurred when it came time to name me.  No big deal, right?  Well, actually there was more stress than normal in choosing the name that I would be called for a lifetime.  You see, in France names for dogs need to correlate with the year in which they were born (“like hurricanes,” Robin said.  I wonder why she used that analogy?).  In 2012, the letter to be used was the letter “h”.  My masters could not think of a really cool “h” name and struggled for days over this enormous task.  Being the non-conformists that they are, I was registered as “Happy” (don’t go there …), but they choose to call me Tzatziki (which is that really delicious Greek cucumber sauce that all good Greeks enjoy!)  But you can call me Zeke, for short, since we are soon to be close friends enjoying our many exploits together.

I look forward to sharing with you some of my daily adventures as I, being an English dog with a Greek name, do life here in France with American masters.  Don’t ask … it gets complicated! 

Guarding my kingdom ...

Poppy Fever ...

Spring has arrived or at least that is what the calendar currently tells us!  The rain during the month of March broke long-standing records in our area, but they also have helped to water the spring flowers that we have been longing to see as we look for visible signs that the long winter is over.

 

One of the visible signs that I look for each spring to tell me that winter is gone is the budding of the poppies.  I don’t know what it is that attracts me to these beautiful flowers for they do not differ in colors, at all.  There is only one color that dots the countryside and that is the color “red.”  For me, just seeing one of these beauties standing alone beside the road nestled in the bright green grass with a clear blue sky above it is enough to tell me that “Yes … indeed winter is over!” 

This fascination with poppies actually began when we first arrived here in France.  I was so enthralled by this tiny and delicate wonder that I really wanted to have one in my own tiny garden. Being one who would rather find something for “free” rather than pay for anything, I proceeded to look for just the right specimen to call my own and bring it home!  So one day I went equipped with a tiny shovel and a bag on my bike to gather up my new find.  I dug carefully around the entire plant and gently placed it in the bag for safekeeping.  During the entire “gathering & transplanting process” I was greeted by many stares from people who were passing by me, but I did my best to try and ignore them and focus on replanting my new spring flower.  It was days later, however, after talking with some of my French friends that I realized that these tiny little wonders of creation that encourage my spirit so much after a long winter were actually viewed by the French people much like I would view a dandelion that would appear in my yard back home…!  It was at this point that I began to understand why I received so many stares while planting my poppy.  I, who was being so careful and gentle with this delicate flower so as not to disturb it’s root system, was actually just transplanting the local weed! 

I can confidently say that I have learned my lesson in regards to the poppy.  Sometimes the Lord only desires for me to gaze on the beauty of His creation, instead of trying to replicate it somewhere else.  It was never meant to be duplicated, but was given to us as another opportunity to thank the Lord for His beauty in creation & His faithfulness to us as we pass from one season to another.  Winter will disappear … spring will arrive and all the beauty that comes with it.  The poppy no longer draws my heart to want to capture it, but to glorify the Maker of it!  

photo taken by Tiara Coules

Bastille Day Celebrations!

July 14^th (Bastille Day) is a national holiday here in France and commemorates the 1789 storming of the Bastille prison, which is an event that holds a significant place in the French Revolution.  Each year, this day is filled with friends, family, food & fireworks.  Most villages have their own fireworks display to help celebrate the day and our tiny village is no exception. 

Each year, we have invited our church family to enjoy the evening with us, as we serve a plethora of ice cream with every topping imaginable & then take the opportunity to sit and watch the fireworks together.  It's always a wonderful night enjoying the beautiful fireworks display and just being together!

The first year we began this church event tradition, I went out and bought a French flag banner to help get everyone in the mood of the occasion.  (Which I have begun to realize, is a thought that I have taken from my own culture!  As I have looked around throughout the years, I have not seen many following suit with this tradition. =)  But be that as it may, I was excited to help celebrate the day with my church family.  That evening as our guests were beginning to enjoy the ice cream sundaes, a young French guy approached me & very politely stated, “Mrs. Coules, did you realize that you have the colors on the flag banner backwards?” What??? Oh, no!! I was horrified!  Here I was so excited to put up this banner to express national pride in France, that I totally forgot that I was looking at the colors as an American!  I grew up reciting the colors of the flag in the following order: “red, white and blue.”  The French on the other hand, grow up saying, “blue, white and red!” 

Needless to say, you do not have to tell me twice!  The following year, you can bet that the banner was again hung in celebration of the day, BUT it was hung with great thought, so as not to once again commit another “faux pas!” 

(This small story has brought much laughter to our family throughout the years, but it expresses in a small way how people from all over the world look at things differently, right down to how colors on a flag are recited.  Just a little tidbit to think about ... =) 

A favorite treat for horses in France ...

Having grown up owning several horses of my own, I was quite interested to find that horses play an important part in the lives of the people here in southern France.  As we have said before, horses are used for the yearly “running of the bulls” as people race through the narrow streets and other various games that are done in the local arenas.  Also native to our area are the white Camargue horses, which used to roam wild along the Mediterranean coastline.  These specific horses are still raised today & are just stunning to watch.  

But as we have come to do life here, it didn’t take much coaxing on our part to want to provide these horses with some special treats, now and again.  However, as I began to take some sugar cubes over, I found that the horses would just not know what to do with this treat.  In fact, they often refused the offer and spit it on the ground!  My reaction was “no problem” … they will love an apple.  To my surprise it took some time for them to realize what to do with that even! 

But then, as we began to watch what other people did around us as they stopped to greet the horses in their pens, we realized that they brought something totally different than what we considered a delicacy.  Instead of giving the horses the delicious treats that I thought were universal, can you guess what the local Frenchman or woman would give to their horses?  You got it! …. Baguettes! 

The baguette is still an everyday necessity (or at least a desire) for people here in France.  Because of French history, the price of bread is actually regulated nationally so that everyone can at least afford to buy bread.  And once you taste a warm loaf of fresh bread, … trust me, you will never go back to anything else! 

But the dilemma then arises on what to do with the leftovers?  One can only make so many croutons or bruschettas with the dry bread.  So instead of throwing the remaining bread away, the people will collect them in bags and take them to the horses for a very special treat! 

So we have decided that “when in Rome….” (or France, even), do as they do!  So each day, you will see John taking his walk to the horses.  The horses recognize him straight away and come running to have “first dibs” on their special baguette treat.  No longer do we try and convince them that sugar cubes really are delicious.  We now know from experience that there really is no better treat than French bread … even if it is a little old!  

John on his daily "treat" run! 

Celebrate Good Times ... Come on!

I must admit that most of life is lived in the mundane - in the "day in and day out" tasks that just need to be done.  Sometimes it seems as if you just tend to put your head down and press forward to accomplish what the Lord has put before you.  But then, there are times in life when you have the opportunity to stop, to lift up your head, and to just shout with joy at what the Lord has helped you to accomplish.  For us, graduation from university is one of those times.   

Our son, JD, just graduated from university this past weekend and we had the privilege to attend the ceremonies.  One could feel all the excitement in the air, as well as, all the anxiety that goes with desiring to finish the day without tripping headlong in your graduation gown!  You could see the pride on the parent’s faces as they waited in line for over an hour outside in the drizzle just to be able to get the best seats in the house.  Then the final moment came when the procession of graduates filed in, ready to receive that thin piece of paper that they had been sacrificing so much for these past years.  I am sure that all those sleepless nights, filled with those caffeine-loaded drinks and project-laden desks, were not even on their minds that day.  You see, I think, that the struggle to graduate is a lot like delivering a child.  The pain can be extremely intense for a while, but after that precious one is in your hands, you really find it hard to remember the pain.  Well… either you choose not to remember OR over time you are eventually able to laugh over your “war stories.”  And I have a feeling that most of those graduates that day had plenty of “war stories” to cling to in which they will be able to recite again and again to their children one day. 

Celebrating … it sure feels good after the long haul of working toward one goal.  But in reality, if there had been no struggle to attain the goal, then there would be no reason to truly celebrate! ...  I think I will need to remember this point when I too, need to sometimes struggle through some harder days. 

But for now, our family … we are just pretty much “jumping up and down in our field” today celebrating JD’s accomplishment of graduating and graduating with honors.  Way to go, son!

Simple Treasures in Life

Do you ever find it funny how the Lord takes the little things in your life and somehow, years later, you look back & see how He has woven something beautiful from them?  I began thinking about this truth this past week when I decided to take an old cast iron pan handed down from my late uncle and clean off the years of grime and grease to see if it could actually be usable again.

 

When I was young, I remember going over to my uncle’s home and making a Danish pancake, called an Æbleskiver, using this special cast iron “monk pan.”  I loved being able to spend the time with Uncle Ed and enjoyed becoming an “expert” at making these unique pancakes.  I remember the pride I felt at being able to successfully make a perfect sphere of the pancake batter, not to mention the joy in tasting the delicious product!

As I was reflecting on those years so long ago, I began to think how this tiny pan & the making of these “foreign” cakes had begun to stir within me a love for international people.  When I was ten, I had no idea that the Lord was beginning to cultivate within my heart a desire to reach out to people who were from a different culture and country than my own.  At the time, I just enjoyed learning a recipe passed down from generations from another culture other than mine.  But today, I look at this grimy cast iron pan and think … thank you, Lord for the simple things in life that you use to change us and direct us to be useful for you. 

The story of this little grimy pan continues!  It has been the center of many family celebrations as the kids have grown and they have developed a love for Æbleskivers, as well.  In fact, they have each expressed their desire to have their own pan one day to carry on the tradition that my uncle began with me so many years ago.  As I was thinking today though, I have a feeling that they will be carrying on something much more important than a delicious, old recipe from Denmark.  My hope is that the Lord has sparked within them, just as He had within me, a desire to share the love of Christ with people from all around the world.    

Call me too reflective, I know.  Tell me I am getting older … it’s true!  But maybe, I am just beginning to look back on life and see the simple ways in which God moved in my life to bring me to where I am now - living in France & interacting with internationals on a daily basis. 

Thank you, Lord for a silly old cast iron pan that has grime from “who knows when” on it.  It’s a lot like me … covered in the filth of my own making, but with Your help, Lord, I am ready to be used to communicate your love to people from every tribe & nation.