I recently rediscovered my email updates from my teaching job in France: four updates, written in letter form, that I shared with my loved ones over the course of the school year in Normandy. It’s been three years since I lived in France during an intense season for the country that affected even the small, rural village where I lived: COVID and its restrictions were at a high while war was starting in Europe. It was an intense season for me personally, as well. In fact, it was potentially the most nerve-wracking, life-changing, soul-searching time of my life yet, and looking back at the letters I wrote brings back the memories of both my dreams and the reality.
From my first letter written from a dreamy-eyed perspective, to my second letter written in the midst of sickness and isolation, to my third letter in which I celebrated friendship and the hope of the bitter winter coming to an end, to my last letter as I processed everything I had learned and everyone I had to leave behind – it’s so important for me to read between the lines, reflect on the emotions I experienced, and remember how far I’ve come. So, there lies my motivation to put those four letters into one blog post as a reminder and inspiration for myself, and, hopefully, for anyone else who ventures to read my many words.
Lettre 1 – September 2021
Bonjour, mes amis !
Well, I made it to my studio apartment on the main street of this little village called Moulins la Marche! I’ll admit, though, there were moments I thought I’d never make it – like when my train ticket was denied at the entrance to the main train station, and I prepared to lug my two fifty-pound suitcases up flights of stairs to buy another ticket – and when, after deciding if anyone tried to rob me they wouldn’t make it far with my cursed luggage, I accepted help from the random French men who seemed to appear at the exact instant my arms were about to give out or I felt like suffocating under my mask.
But I’m here, and I’m really loving it so far. Yes, I’m used to the country back home, but there’s something about the countryside of Normandy… I mean, it’s France. Even the cows are somehow more idyllic. You drive down the highway, and there’s the house of William the Conqueror. Drive a little farther and find the D-Day beaches. You know, no big deal. Unless you’re a history buff… @ me. And don’t even get me started on the food.
Multiple times, I’ve bitten into a croissant or a pain au chocolat and about started singing praises to Jesus with my mouth full of heavenly bread. The French genuinely appreciate food – they have dessert with every meal but breakfast, and breakfast is its own ceremony of sweet treats – and if you know me, you know I have found my people.
I have already felt your prayers keeping me going, not only as I sat down on my last train to Normandy with a sigh of relief that somehow I had navigated the train stations and métro stops of Paris, but also when I received the Covid test results I needed to fly just minutes before my flight closed or when I met the family here in Moulins who are like my “host family.” I have my own place, but this family has shown me around and shared almost every meal with me.
This is my main prayer request for this family, Valérie and her two daughters, Lyse and Lucy. They have shown such kindness and hospitality to me, and, because they are so welcoming, we already have a good relationship despite the fact that they speak little to no English and that whatever French I ever studied seems to have abandoned my brain (okay, side note, but the French speak so. dang. fast.). I wish I could express my appreciation beyond the word “merci,” but I hope to return their kindness and show them the love of Christ.
There is a church in every town here… and I don’t mean the little brick Baptist churches on every corner in South Carolina… I’m talking mini Notre Dame cathedrals. I asked Valérie about church services, and she laughed a little and said something to the effect of “only old people go to church.”
Please be praying for opportunities for gospel conversations, for my continued health as the weather keeps getting colder and everyone around me keeps coughing, and for my students – I’ll get to meet them soon as I start teaching this week!
I keep pinching myself. I still can’t believe I’m here; that the dream I’ve held for years has come true. I know it’s not always going to be picture-perfect, but I know I’m where I’m supposed to be, and I can’t thank you guys enough for all the love and support.
À bientôt!
Mikayla
Lettre 2 – December 2021
Salut, friends and family,
I have now been in France for over two months! A few noteworthy things have happened since my last update: first of all, I started my English teaching assistant job! I teach at the “collège” or middle school (in France that means up to 15 year olds) three days a week and at the elementary school one morning a week.
Everyone has been very welcoming; most of the teachers don’t speak English but offer me desserts and tea during breaks in the teachers’ room. And the students (many of whose names I’m still learning as I have several different classes a day with 20-30 students per class… and French names aren’t your average Bob) never fail to greet me with “hello!” and smiles under their masks.
Secondly, it’s officially Christmas (“Noël”) season in my little town, and Christmas lights decorate the town hall and storefronts. Fall (“l’automne”) is on its way out, and, of course, it’s been stunning: forests of both evergreen and autumn-red trees; hay bales scattered across the countryside; red vines climbing the old brick buildings; flowers still thriving in most windowsills in the village.
In case you’re wondering about the cliché topic of the weather, it’s been getting colder, averaging 30-40 degrees over the last few weeks (don’t ask me what that temperature is in Celsius, s’il vous plaît). The weather changes so quickly though. Yesterday, it was snowing. When I sat down at my kitchen table to start writing this, it was pouring rain. Now, not even half an hour later, I look out my sunroof window to see a blue, almost-cloudless sky.
Thirdly, I’m learning French. Well, yes, I already technically learned French in school, but learning to speak it natively has been a whole other learning and re-learning process. I now have conversations under my belt from the bank, bakery, and the random person who knocked on my door, and I’m gaining some confidence along with the new vocabulary.
Speaking French has been trickier than I thought it would be, and sometimes, life in general has also been more difficult than expected. I’m the only teaching assistant in the schools, the only American in town, and, in the majority of cases, the only English speaker. I spent several days stuck in my apartment with a stomach virus. I’ve been dealing with another kind of sickness, too: homesickness. I’ve now been away from home for longer than I ever have before, and, over this time, I’ve been thankful to realize how many people truly care about me but also sad to realize how much I miss these people. And my car. And my mom’s hugs. And Chick-fil-a.
In many ways, though, life here has been better than I even expected. Traveling’s been tricky, but I’ve been thankful to my “host family” for taking me with them to see more beautiful cities and villages in Normandy and for warmly inviting me to spend Christmas with their family. Lucy, my host family’s five year old whom I babysit, told me in French that I’m her sister by heart and soul (a rough translation of what sounded even prettier in French).
I’ve been encouraged to be able to take on a couple English tutoring jobs outside of school, giving me the opportunity to meet more people and make some extra cash. Sometimes, I’ll run into one or more of my students as I walk down main street after grocery shopping, greeting them in French as they greet me in English. The farmer’s market happens each Saturday morning, local vendors selling cheese, meat, and
fresh eggs. On Sundays, as I watch house church and plan lessons, the church bells ring at noon for several minutes straight.
In other words, I still love it here. And I’m still eating too much bread, but there’s no such thing when in France, right?
I ask for prayer that I can be a witness to my students, their families, and the other teachers, that this country will find healing from Covid and the restrictions in place because of it, and for me personally that I will find friendships and have peace and joy during my first Christmas away from home. Thank you all. Eat some Chick-fil-a
for me!
Mikayla
P.S. It’s raining again!
Lettre 3 – March 2022
Bonjour à tous,
I’m not sure exactly what the Lord is trying to teach me, but I, who have always considered myself to be a city girl, consistently end up living in the middle of nowhere. My family moved out to a farm when I was in high school. I went to a little university that was a 15 minute drive from a Dollar General. And now, I’m living in a rural village in France. Most teaching assistants in this program are placed in cities, or at least TOWNS (when I say village, I mean it… the population is approximately 700 people; there are two bakeries, two French restaurants, a mini market, and the two schools I work at, and that pretty much sums it up).
But, when talking to other teaching assistants and realizing how unique my situation turned out to be, I realize the Lord’s plan in this. For the other assistants, they have flatmates (English speaking flatmates at that) and train stations, but they don’t have the same cultural experience that I do. I’m here, sharing meals with families, staying with new friends in their medieval period houses, participating in holiday traditions, babysitting my little French “sister” who chatters incessantly in French, and tutoring the family who lives across the street. Plus, I’m forced to use my French, which is still very faulty, but when I compare my language skills now to what they were when I first arrived, I know I’m improving.
I can’t believe I have less than two months left here in France. Since my last update, I have experienced the holidays in France: Père Noël brought gifts on Christmas Eve, and we had 5-course meals that lasted about 5 hours on both Christmas Eve and Day (with a different wine for several of the courses). On New Year’s Eve, we ate a big meal of SEAFOOD at midnight. Let’s just say the holidays left me feeling like I’d never be hungry again.
Something else worth mentioning is that last month, for another two-week school break (the school breaks in France are pretty amazing!) my dear friend Lauren came to visit. We stayed in Paris for one week, then traveled to Switzerland for the next. From exploring my favorite city (Paris, duh) to staying in the Alps, it was such an incredible trip, and I was so encouraged to see a friend from home.
I still love my teaching assistant job, and most of my students seem to love me (no, literally, they will yell “I love you!” across the school when they see me). I’m definitely learning more from this job than I teach… it’s very rewarding, but I have more respect for full-time teachers than ever before.
Thank you guys for your continued prayers. They’re being answered… Covid restrictions are being lifted this week in France. And this place has finally started to feel like home. It’s a crazy time to be living in Europe, and that makes me even more thankful to still be able to have this opportunity, as I’m learning not only another language and culture, but also how to live on my own and to rely more and more on my faith in Christ.
Sending love to you all!
Mikayla
Lettre 4 – May 2022
Bonjour, friends!
I just got back to my little French apartment after traveling for the Easter break, and now I’m preparing to leave France again, this time for the States! I’m headed home May 1st, and this week is my last week of teaching. I can hardly believe it nor process the many mixed emotions I feel about going home but leaving France. This is my last email update, so please bear with me as I use it to reflect on my time here.
This country has an identity beautiful to witness because of how important this identity is to its people. The French take pride in their culture and take time to enjoy the simple things in life. Mealtimes, for example: they gather around the table and take time to savor each bite of carefully prepared (always delicious) food with family and friends, with attentive conversation with each other. Their history is very important to the French; for instance, each town and village, no matter how small, has a monument bearing the names of those from that town who died during the world wars. I’ve noticed how the people here appreciate beauty, and this country, from its fashion and poetic language to its scenery and architecture, is truly beautiful.
But there is a darkness here, too, that I might not have noticed had I been a two-week tourist who sees the surface-level France with its iconic monuments and perfect macarons. The other two countries I visited before coming to France, Jordan and China, had a darkness that was palpable… China, quite literally with its smog but also with its underground churches… Jordan with the haunting call to prayer heard often from the many mosques.
Here in France, almost every family I meet is a broken one. People fill their lives with good food and conversation, long lunch breaks and many vacations, but most people I have met are atheists, and there doesn’t seem to be much more to their lives than pleasure.
I’ll admit, I’d like to step off the plane home with a Parisian makeover like Audrey Hepburn in the movie Sabrina, but I think I’ve experienced a makeover of another kind… I’ve learned to find peace in the midst of panic and God in the midst of loneliness. While I still don’t feel fluent in this evasive language, I have learned the childlike humility that it takes to learn another language in an immersive environment. I, who a couple years ago could hardly go to Walmart by myself without an anxiety attack, have now traveled by plane and train and carpool with strangers by myself, not to mention lived on my own in a foreign country. I have stepped from my comfort zone so many times that its borders are blurred. The past seven plus months have been some of the hardest of my life, but they have been the months that I will look back on for the rest of my life for encouragement and with thankfulness.
I’m going to miss cathedral bells, chocolate eclairs, and hearing French spoken everywhere. I’ll never forget the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made… my bestie, five-year-old Lucy, whom I babysit every week and have played many games of ponies and barbies with… Lucy’s mom and sister, Valérie and Lyse, who are basically my mom and sister… Myriam, one of the teachers I taught with last semester whose invitation to stay at her house came as an answer to prayer… The other teachers at my schools… my students: Romain, Eva, Raphael, Honorine, Suzie, and so many other faces I will miss… Lilie and her friends who gave me the experience of hanging out with French people my age (i.e. smoking and watching Harry Potter).
I’m so thankful for these friendships that cross languages, beliefs, and cultures, and that make saying goodbye all the more difficult. I’m so thankful for the many times the Lord has answered my prayers, both big and small, and shown His care for me. I’m so thankful that I will see my family in less than a week!
In my last week here, I will be having farewell dinners with families, teaching my last English lessons, saying goodbye to my students, cleaning out my apartment, and preparing for reverse culture shock. Thank you guys for reading my rambling emails and for supporting me on this journey. See you soon, or should I say, à bientôt !
Mikayla
Mastering the Mastermind 