A Fete

My mother turned soixante-dix recently, so we held a small fete in her honor. It was fun and she is darling. I love you Mom!

Heather and I split the food duties. She made this darling cake (white with a lemon filling) and I made pulled pork sandwiches with coleslaw, tater babies, and a chef salad. We also had sparkling cider. :)

Heather forgot candles and the only one I had was a sparkly red 2 left over from Grant's birthday. We put that on and Dad declared that Mom was celebrating her second childhood. When Grant saw that it was time to blow out the candle, he climbed up on Heather's lap to "help" and spit on the cake with great gusto.

We wore party hats to eat our cake and ice cream in...

and Dad popped into this picture of the kid eating their cake. Chad said, "Poppa is a picture bomb!" which had Merritt giggling and questioning all night. ("Why is Poppa a picture bomb?") Doesn't Dad look like a unicorn or a bull with one horn in his hat? So cute!

Mom opened presents from her darling sister Laraine...

and from us!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!

Back to France...Oradour-sur-Glane

We left Angouleme on Wednesday, November 4, and headed for the Loire valley and the super-impressive chateau country there. On our way we stopped at Oradour-sur-Glane to see the Martyred Village, a World War II memorial site. Like all war crimes, the massacre of 624 men, women and children in the town of Oradour-sur-Glane makes no sense. The six survivors reported that the German Der Führer regiment of the 2nd SS-Panzer Division Das Reich never made any demands of the villagers nor accused them of any crime. They simply surrounded the village and forced the people into the center where they claimed an i.d. check would take place.

"On this place the population was assembled."

The people were then told that a search of their homes would be made for arms and explosives. While this search was being conducted, the women and children would be taken to the church and then men split into six groups and conducted to barns or garages all over the town. Since the villagers had no weapons or explosives, they went to their designated waiting places in relative calm. The German soldiers even encouraged the children to sing on their way to the church.

"Here is a place of torture. A group of men were collected, slaughtered and burned by Nazis."

The men were gunned down by machine gun fire, but the Nazis aimed low - the point was to make it so that none could flee. Wood was piled on their bodies and they were burned alive. Six were able to escape, but one was shot and killed in the attempt.

The Church

A large gas bomb was thrown into the church, it's design was to asphyxiate the women and children It didn't really work, so the Germans used machine guns and hand grenades to kill and maim the church's inhabitants. Then they piled the bodies of the dead as well as the wounded together, added wood, and set them all on fire. There was one survivor...a woman who jumped ten feet from the windows above the altar. She was shot five times but was able to reach a field of peas and bury herself in the dirt until late the following day.

Another sweep of the area was made to look for anyone the Nazis had previously missed. The remaining townspeople were killed where they were found, with some bodies thrown down the local well. One invalid man was burned to death in his bed. A baby was baked to death in an oven. People who came to see what was happening were killed. The only ones who escaped death were a group who rode into Oradour on the tram. For whatever reason, they were allowed to go free. The town was looted and then burned.

You'd think that the people of Oradour-sur-Glane had done something tremendously heinous to justify such a fate, but they were all innocent. The exact reason for the slaughter is not known, but it is speculated that it was all a terrible mistake. The French Resistance had captured a German officer, a man named Helmut Kampfe, from the Der Führer regiment of the 2nd SS-Panzer Division Das Reich. Later, another officer, Karl Gerlach, and his driver were captured. Gerlach escaped. Another man, Adolf Diekmann, was sent to Oradour-sur-Glane with part of the regiment to secure Kampfe's release or take hostages to barter for it, only Kampfe was dead and he had never been in Oradour-sur-Glane. Historians believe that Kampfe was held in Oradour-sur-Vayres, and that Gurlach, who provided the intel, confused the two towns. Historians also believe that Diekmann had become aware of the mix-up but didn't care, since no demands were made on the townspeople and no hostages were taken. It is simply another incident of man's inhumanity to man, a belief that war justifies any and all means. Diekmann was killed later in the month and the massacre at Oradour remains a frustrating mystery. No one was ever brought to justice for the killing of an entire town. Oradour-sur-Glane was rebuilt a distance away from the original, and the burned out shell of the Martyred Village was left as a monument to those who died.

SCENES FROM ORADOUR

Before you enter the ruins of the town, there is a museum dedicated to chronicling the massacre in Oradour-sur-Glane on June 10, 1944. It also provides World War II history and has a new section in honor of 9/11. Taken together, the two stories are heart-rending, but how touched I was to see a small town in France honor our American dead alongside their own. After walking the silent streets of Oradour, I couldn't emotionally relive that day, but I went to the young woman who was staffing the help desk and, in my broken French, thanked her for the remembrance. We both started to cry the tears of those who share a similar tragedy but who are determined to honor the memory of those who died. "To be ignorant of the past is to forever be a child." - Cicero

A Pink Picture of Christmas

A giant pink rose headband, pink pajamas, a frothy pink tutu, pink snow boots, wrapping paper wreckage, and a chocolate covered mouth...does Christmas get any better than this for a little girl?

French Doors

It is probably weird, but it is true that I have a thing for doors. I love them when they are interesting in color, shape, and design. I always wanted to have doors in my home like those I saw in Carthage Jail - they are plain wood but in the center of the door there is a cross, and the bottom panels represent an open Bible. The doors in the small French communes or towns are wonderful! There is color, color everywhere you look and the doors and shutters always match. I saw brown doors, blue doors, and red doors and they looked so striking against the white washed stone homes. I didn't get pictures of as many doors as I would have liked (I didn't want to drive my family nuts) but here are a few.

Grant

This is Grant...He likes to lick the syrup off his plate when he's done eating waffles or pancakes...










He looks cute in a hat...

And he has faith. A few weeks ago, Grant had a terrible cough. Twice he coughed so hard he threw up, which scared him a lot. The second time it happened, it was the middle of the night. Chad and I cleaned up the mess and comforted our baby, then Chad blessed him through the priesthood of God. The blessing contained the admonition to "have faith." I wondered if that was for our benefit as parents, for how was a two-year old child to exercise faith to be healed? As I was tucking Grant back into bed, he began to cough again and turned to me with panic in his eyes. His face seemed to say to me, "Is that going to happen again? I'm scared." I smoothed his hair, reflected on the words of the blessing, and said, "It will be all right. You will be fine." Then we locked eyes and I said, "Have faith." He nodded his head, his body relaxed, he rolled over and hugged his bear, and slept through the night. The prophet/king Mosiah taught that we overcome our selfish natures through the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ and by becoming "as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father." (Mosiah 3:19) Having little children teaches me about the person the Lord would have me be. If I had the faith of my son, I would be mighty indeed.

The Cliff Church of Saint Amandour

On our way to Rocamandour, we stopped at various chateaus and points of interest to take pictures. In between the communes of Mareuil and Perigord we found a chateau in ruins. Sacked by the French revolutionaries, the building was being painstakingly restored by a charming elderly couple (I'm going to be random here and say that the sweet lady had the biggest hands I've EVER seen on a woman. Amazing!). The chateau was actually closed for the day, but when the caretakers heard we were from the U.S., nothing could have pleased them more than to have us enter (free of charge no less) and admire their work. And what a labor of love it was! The outer walls, chapel and dining hall were all under construction, with the dining hall mostly completed. Within the hall were period pieces of furniture, tapestries, paintings, dishes and cookware, a suit of armor, and many other interesting objects which we were not permitted to take photographs of, in order to preserve them from light exposure and wear. The chapel...was neat, but like so many things for me personally, it increased in fascination and value when I learned it's history. Charlemagne himself, and later King Louis IX, attended services there, only neither sat in the chapel with the peons. Both took their seat high above the other worshipers in a small alcove about fifteen feet up. I'm assuming there were stairs to this prodigious perch, even though I didn't see them. And no, I don't have a picture of it...my camera has failed me for the last time!! I want to replace it - but don't tell the camera yet or it may go on strike. Anyhoo! Here's another bit of random rambling...who's more famous: Louis IX or Charlemagne? I mean, Charlemagne is Charlemagne, considered to be the father of Europe (who doesn't know about him?) but Louis IX was canonized by the Catholic Church...does that make him more important? I don't know. Moving on...

More pictures of the Chateau:
We continued on our merry way, snapping pictures and laughing as we went.
And, of course, since my family loves me they stopped along the way so that I could visit a French cemetery. I find cemeteries in general to be very fascinating and this one was amazing in the variety of stones, crypts, and statuary. I even found a small chapel, which put me in mind of Nobody Owens and his guardian Silas from The Graveyard Book (which is really good by the way). Plus, everything was decorated with flowers since it was just past All Saints Day.

Jaime's best zombie impersonation...After more driving under overcast skies and through patches of rain we finally arrived at...


The building at the top is a chateau which was built to defend the sanctuary from invaders. From the top there is a path, a pilgrimage trail, which goes through a series of switchbacks. At each bend there is a shrine, one for each of the apostles. This one is Peter's (I think! My French is TERRIBLE!).





The path opens to a wider road leading to the religious epicenter, which contains several sanctuaries. One is Notre Dame, or the Church of the Blessed Virgin, which houses a black, wooden Madonna said to have been carved by Saint Amandour, who also built that particular sanctuary. Additional sanctuaries were also built, the church of St. Michel, the church of St. Sauveur, and the sanctuary of St. Amandour, all carved into the cliff face.

Louis IX visited here too, along with Blanche of Castille and Roland and Henry II of England. I wonder if that is why Louis was made a Saint...he went to church a lot. No word on whether he had his own private chair fifteen feet above everybody else for Mass though.

Scenes of Rocamandour:

The town below the sanctuary has changed from a village whose economy was supported by religious pilgrims to an economy supported by tourists. It was, therefore, full of shops selling all sorts of items that you'd buy in a moment of "I'm on vacation!" disregard for your finances. We were strong though and resisted...it was hard. Maybe it would have been easier to be tempted if we hadn't had to go up and down a million stairs...or if they were selling bottled water at the bottom. I'm just saying. We drove home through the rain and dark at "unsafe speeds" (ha-ha-ha!) telling silly stories and playing car games (name fruits, cities, states, etc. that start with "A") and arrived back in Angouleme for our last night there before heading north toward Paris. (Yee-ha! We got to move our parents out of ANOTHER house!) Oh, and Heather and Mom bought hats at a stop on the way back...now we ALL had hats (even Dad) except for Aunt Laraine. That woman has serious powers of resisting peer pressure!