French Smiles

We thought you might enjoy a few stories from our journey over the last year.  Some might sound familiar; they were first posted on my "Seed for Thought Blog" at www.theseedstore.net.



As we prayerfully considered missionary service in France, our friends suggesed we read French or Foe, by Polly Platt.

This book could discourage the strongest of heart. It contrasts American and French cultures by anecdotes from the woeful mistakes of Americans abroad. According to Ms. Platt, the French people are put off by a smile from a stranger. Such a gesture is deemed intrusive, inappropriate until relationship has been established. In contrast, Americans’ smiles denote a range of emotion and connection, from common courtesy to deep friendship. Despite this, and a mountain of other protocols foreign to us, God's plan to place us in France began to  settle deep in our hearts.

Meanwhile, the Lord continued to allay our fears of committing cultural faux pas. We’ve made countless trips across Snoqualmie Pass, from eastern to western Washington, to visit extended family. On one trip home, we made a rare stop at a family restaurant in Ellensburg. We brightened when the hostess seated us next to a French family, “on holiday” in the U.S.

Attempting only occasional glances, we strained to hear the parents coaching their two young children. We understood only a smattering of their French; they talked so fast! Still, their lyrical instructions mesmerized us. Each member of the family ordered from the menu in excellent English, resuming French as soon as their server moved away from the table. The young father adjusted his Seattle Mariners ball cap, then traced their journey on a U.S. map. We recognized the names of American statesmen and places, sprinkled through the French.

Doc and I finished our meal at about the same time the French family prepared to leave the restaurant. What I did next still surprises me. While Doc paid the bill, I quickly rehearsed a greeting and approached the family in the parking lot.

“Excusez-moi.” I smiled. “Nous allons a Francais en octobre.” I reddened, realizing I’d spoken amiss. “Excusez-moi” should probably have been followed with “s’il vous plait.” And “Francais” means French (the language); “France” means France, the country. Besides—I shouldn’t have smiled so early in the conversation!

“Oh!” the young French woman exclaimed. A beautiful smile lit her face. “A visite?” she asked.

I struggled to reply.

“You can speak English if you like!” she assured me. “Are you coming to France for a visit?”

“Oh, yes, yes. In October.”

“Oui,” came her acknowledgment. Good. I said something that made sense.
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior in the restaurant. I tried so hard not to stare at your family, but the French you spoke was music to our ears.”

“Ahh. . .merci beaucoup!” She beamed.

“We hope you have safe travels.” I waved and made a half-turn toward our car. “Have a wonderful holiday in the states!”

“Merci! Bon voyage!”

Doc’s eyes widened as I climbed in the Camry. “What did you say?”

I was so thrilled I could barely answer. Repeating my misspoken phrase, I relayed the woman’s delight at my blundered attempt at French.

Doc broke into praise. “Thanks, Lord, for this special meeting!”

But the fun wasn’t over yet. Three hours later, ten miles outside Spokane, two lanes of traffic crawled through a construction zone. The driver of a sedan next to us tapped his horn. Two youngsters waved wildly as they passed, smiling, shouting French greetings through the open rear window. Their parents waved demurely. Then I saw the man flash a broad grin at his wife next to him in the front seat.

Who says the French don’t smile?

P.S.  In retrospect, I wish I'd not been so shy, so we could have talked with them about their holiday and their home.  We pray often for this family.  Maybe someday God will give us another chance to connect.

 

Copyright 2011, 2012 - Carol Krebs