Thanksgiving weekend

We hope that you all have had a great Thanksgiving and were able to spend it with your friend's families, if not your own.

On Thanksgiving Day we went to be with K and D and their 3 boys. Karine is Leslie's best friend, J's niece ... such a small world. They live about 10 minutes further down the coast. They also live about 100 or so paces from the Atlantic. It is a straight ahead surfing beach.

Friday, we made un petite fête (a small party) at our home to thank those who have been so helpful to us in transition.

We had about 20 people; about 1/2 local expat US folks and the rest French and Nationals.
The guest list included our proprietor/landlord. And, the local pastor and his wife.

We had a unique mix of folks, as it is here in our international village. It was a "grazing" type of affair as opposed to sit-down. We have no photos to share.

It has been raining here again and windy. It seems as though we live on a larger freighter at sea. The point on which we live is exposed like the bow of a ship and there is no protection, and with no hills behind us, the wind will kick easily to nearly 100 MPH and seems much colder than the thermometer says it is. The wonderful thing is that in all of our struggles with the elements, everyone including the proprietor has come to help us.

The leaking ceiling, the water running in under the doorsills the power outages, and the broken-down car all have resulted in the Lord blessing us with sweet helpers and new relationships. All of these detours are resolved for now.

The best Thanksgiving meal was on Saturday. We normally have a local man come to help with the gardening. He arrived in a downpour, and proceeded to work the yard as usual but with non-stop downpour.

After an hour or so, I said “enough”, relieved him of his further duties, and drove him to his home in the interior. Once we arrived, he insisted that I come in for tea. After greeting his wife who prepared in the kitchen, and two little ones, we sat without talking for about a half and hour without talking and watched his two-year-old play with his very simple toys. Mr. Gardener poured the three cups and soon required that I stay for a meal. Concerned after an hour-plus of visiting, that I had sent no word to Leslie, I tried unsuccessfully to call her (power out) , Mr. Gardener said that we must go get her to join us, and so we did.

With the rain blasting down and mud everywhere, we drove back the mud-ruts to our home. Leslie (surprised by my long absence and the invitation) and I returned to Mr. G’s home and re-joined he and his wife for a tagine of veggies and chicken breast and “fanta”. Although we hardly spoke any common language, it was the sweetest two-hour conversation of the weekend.

It was coffee and then time to take our leave. Mr and Mrs. G and the children all walked out with us and waved until we rounded the hill on the way home.

That's what our Thanksgiving was about.

We hope that your day was sweet as well.

Bye for now, Love, Tom and Leslie (and Roberta who joined the fete but not the country meal)