La vie en rose

Salut! It has been a wonderfully busy week. I've already been to the Eiffel Tower twice (without going to the top- everyone keeps having second thoughts about the €13 that it costs to go to the top), the Arc de Triomphe twice, the Champs-Elysées, the Place de la Concorde, and St-Germain-en-Laye, a charming city only two stops away from our house on the metro, home to beautiful gardens and a castle where Louis XIV was born. But my favorite thing which we have done thus far is to go to church. Croissy-sur-Seine is part of the Versailles ward, a family ward the size of most wards in the States.
I had this strange anxiety that church in France would be... different. And it was, only in the sense that people in different countries are different. But it was Fast and Testimony meeting, and as I listened to everyone bear their testimonies, my soul was filled with the Spirit. Two children were blessed, one whose blessing counseled the little one to stay close to the church, a place where he would be surrounded with love. And I felt that tender love today. I introduced myself to the sister sitting in front of me, and she gave me the phone number of her home teachers so that we might get rides to church, instead of taking the public transportation, which due to the layout of the Metro, as well as our getting lost, took us almost three hours to get to church. This sister also taught me how to "faire la bise", or give a kiss of greeting. There was a ward dinner afterwards where we savored what was easily the best Munch-and-Mingle I've ever eaten- think pork cassoulet, couscous with spiced chicken, spinach omelette, baguettes, fruit salad, chocolate and lemon tarts. Little children were playing, smiling at there parents as they drew nonsense pictures on the gym chalkboard. I even played hide-and-seek with an obliging and really cute toddler girl. Forgive my rose-colored picture, but I don't know if I've ever seen a happier people in my life.
Well, we know that the gospel is true and that it changes life for the better wherever it is lived, but in France everything, including church, seems a little rosier. The morning walk from our house, an 1860 summer vacation cottage near the Seine and in the heart of what is called "Impressionist Country" because those venerable painters realized many of their visions here, is quiet and satisfies the senses: the smell of lilacs, the song of a thousand birds and the green of geometrically trimmed trees which line the little streets. The French try to make sure that everything is beautiful, from the way that they meet people to the way that they eat to the way that they build skyscrapers. And I love it.