On Friday, Nov. 16, we drove to Paris for our first All Mission Conference, held in the Versailles Ward, to hear an Apostle of the Lord speak to us. We timed it to arrive at 10:30 and we did, with 10 minutes to spare, only to find out that with a V.I.P. arriving, preparations and expectations and time schedules are on overdrive. We didn't do much for 2 hours except try to get the whole France-Paris Mission in place for a mission photo on the stage at the rear of the chapel area. Just in time we were alerted that they were driving up, and the noise of talking abated, and as Elder Marquez sat at the piano and played, we all began to hum or sing softly to the music of the hymn along with him. The Spirit was strong as we anticipated seeing our leaders, and as they came into the chapel they were very touched by the reverence and love being shown to them by the missionaries.
They sat in the seats in front of us for the picture taking session, then they lined up to shake hands with all of us as we filed out of our rows. Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Twelve Apostles shook my hand and thanked me for my 'service', then Elder Teixeira (Regional 70), Elder Boutoille ( from Lille- Area 70), President Poznanski (Mission Pres.), and a couple of other leaders each shook our hands. We then found seats in the chapel and heard several short talks by some of those men and 2 of their wives.
Elder Andersen then came up and told us how he has known Pres. Poznanski for many years, ever since he, himself, was the Mission President in Bordeaux, and Pres. Poznanski was a 28 year old young father and Branch President there. He was running himself ragged in his job with a pharmaceutical company, with his church position, and with a family he sometimes didn't see for days on end. He decided he had to ask to be released from his calling, but then President Andersen, counseled him to hang in because the Lord expects more of us than to give up when the going gets tough. So President Poznanski changed his mind, and he and his wife also changed some of the ways they were doing things, and life got easier and better for them as they were obedient and continued to serve with honor.
Then, they were asked to become leaders of the Institute in Angers (working for the church), so he quit his highly paid job, uprooted his family and moved to northern France where things are a lot different. It was hard on the kids, especially at first, to leave everything they knew and their friends behind, but they thrived in their new home and became much loved in Angers. One thing I know for sure, Elder Andersen had his eye on Pres. Poznanski for good reason - he and his family (his wife is a jewel) are outstanding people and members of the church here in France.
Elder Andersen then threw out the question: Where in the Book of Mormon do you find the Doctrine of Christ outlined? Some of our sharp missionaries called out the very scriptures that explain it best : 2 Nephi: 31 Tells why we must be baptized - to follow Christ, it is an ordinance of commitment ; 3 Nephi: 11 Christ appears in his resurrected body so that ALL the people would be witnesses of the truth, and he authorized his disciples to baptize, to become one with Him ; and 3 Nephi: 27 To call His church in His name, and He gave commandments to repent, be baptized, and to follow His works.. the 'do' 'do' 'do' 'do' 'do' verse 21 ( if that is not works, I don't know what is! ) These chapters should be studied carefully and become precious in our lives. The Doctrine of Christ is the True Belief...of Atonement and Faith.
He spoke for a long time and emphasized that being a missionary is not just baptisms, but giving spiritual aid to all, especially members who may be struggling. Baptisms are only one measurement of your mission, you have to see yourself in the true role you are in. Be simple, be concise, share your miracles with the members, be the flame, be the light among them, it helps them be firm and true over the years. He said that he was just an ordinary, every day missionary when he served in France, not a leader at all, but he tried to have the spirit with him every day. He told us if we will see ourselves as disciples of Christ who carry the light of Christ to the people of France daily - that is how we will be successful.
When he finished talking to us he couldn't stay around and shoot the breeze because he had things to do, places to go, and more people to see, so he took his leave and said goodbye. We also did what else we had come to Versailles to do, exchange cars with the newly arrived couple in the mission. They were given the car that the Hall's had used in Brussels, but with its Belgium license plates, taking it to Cherbourg ( south of the Normandy coast ) would put it too far from that country. We, on the other hand, being only minutes from the Belge border are the more logical ones to drive it. The cars are both Chevy's, but ours was a bit bruised and worn from being driven by the Elders before we got it. Their's was the newer model of the two cars, and I think Elder Bellessa looked askance at its several minor, but noticeable cosmetic problems, and Jack heard him ask someone inside the church later if they were aware of them. We had to chuckle a bit, I guess little things like that bother some people more than it does others.
Funny enough that was not the end of our adventures in Versailles that night. We were asked to get a hotel room so we could take the papers the real estate people needed on Monday with us back to Lille, and they would be ready for us in the morning. That sounded like fun, we didn't have a tooth brush between the two of us! Jack's nose always sniffs out the nearest inexpensive Ibis Hotel, but it was on a busy one-way street with no visible parking, so he made his way around the block and parked like a local, illegally with blinkers flashing! We quickly realized this was NOT a good idea (from the disgusted looks of passers-by), because we were partially blocking a pedestrian walkway....OOps! So he went to back up and this fine new car would not go into reverse...no matter how he tried, it utterly refused to do so! People now were stopping by to give us a piece of their mind, with Gallic gestures galore, not exactly what my thoroughly fustrated husband needed right then. We checked the instruction book but that was not helpful at all, so we switched places and he pushed the car back into the street far enough so we could go forward again, and called the Elders to meet us at the chapel. I know he was furiously trying to figure out the 'why' of the problem. We sat in the parking lot looking at the book again when suddenly his fingers found the elusive 'ring' on the shift nob that when pulled up turned 1st gear into reverse. This Chevy, being newer, actually had one more gear than our other one had, so the mystery was solved, but what drama!
The one thing we cannot say is that things are boring out here!
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
The Invasion Sites of Normany
*The pictures accompanying this post met a tragic digital death in France, but Mom says it gives them an excuse to visit again. The two pictures included are from earlier visits to World War II cemeteries. They are included to give an idea of what the cemeteries are like.*
It is here in the north of France that you see the signs of the wars that have been waged on these vast plains of Europe. The most poignant ones for me are the many individual, pocket-sized military cemeteries that dot the countryside, most simply carved out in the middle of corn or wheat fields. They are always walled, and filled with rows of crosses or tomb stones lovingly kept bright and clean by someone, with the grass all around each marker clipped to perfection. There are always road signs indicating that a cemetery is just ahead for Regiments of Australians, Canadians, British and some Americans also. Months ago at the Canadian visitor's center at Vimy Ridge, we were given a map so we could find the grave of Jack's uncle, who in the first world war lost his life two weeks before the Armistice was signed. We finally found it off the beaten path, and it too was in perfect order, almost one hundred years later.
After working in Rouen for 2 days, President Poznanski gave us leave to take time for ourselves, so we decided to head to the Normandy coast to see the World War ll Allied Army Invasion sites. All through this area is where the German army tried to repulse the Americans (at Utah and Omaha beaches), the Canadians (at Juno beach), and the British forces (at Gold and Sword beaches). The tide was out now in the late afternoon as we looked at the vast Atlantic ocean before us, and we wondered what it must have been like that day, June, 6, 1944, for the awaiting Germans, to see the vast array of troop ships, battleships, destroyers and support craft spread out upon the waters, coming against them with their might! They did have some strong defenses ready just in case, but they were not expecting the invasion to be in this area because it was not the most direct route from the staging point in Great Britain.
The beaches the Americans stormed onto were vast, flat, sandy expanses with a small knoll in which the Germans had built many cement gun emplacements, all pointing seaward. I can't imagine how it must have been for our soldiers being rushed ashore in those transports, knowing there was a huge probability they could die in the next few minutes.
We were in awe as we drove around the countryside, down narrow roads surely unchanged since those very horrific events that were happening virtually in people's backyards those first few days. The nearby city of Caen looks unlike any other city in France, especially from a distance as it is full of white, similar sized buildings. It unfortunately was in the middle of the war zone and largely destroyed in the fighting. We passed through the famous town where one unlucky American parachutist had dropped next to the large Catholic church and his chute snagged onto one of the spires. The poor kid was a sitting duck, and was soon shot dead by a German soldier. Imagine our surprise (and dismay) to see that poor paratrooper still hanging from that spire when we drove into that little town. The city fathers have made a cottage industry out of that historic incident and there are replicas of the doomed soldier in all the store windows down the town's one main street. The town's name is Ste. Mere-Eglise, and Jack remembered it from seeing the notable war movie "The Longest Day" in France on his first mission in 1961.
The American Military Cemetery is along the ocean not far from Omaha beach, and what an awe-inspiring spiritual place it is. The grounds are pristine in every way - not a leaf out of place, grass like a carpet, and the markers white and gleaming against all the beautiful surroundings. People were walking among the crosses, reading names and musing about all those men who willingly put their very lives on the line for freedom's sake. I can't help but think that men with principles like that had to be some of the best of our nation - a whole generation of good men who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country.
It was a cool and blustery afternoon, yet lots of people were there, with their families in many cases. The thing that really surprised me was that most of the language being spoken was French, and it was evident in their hushed tones that there was reverence and respect being shown at the grounds. Many French people have the point of view that throwing down gum wrappers or other unwanted paper is no crime because there are people employed to pick this stuff up. They are actually 'helping' someone with job security, so what's a little littering going to hurt? But here, nothing marred the surrounding burial grounds at all, and I was so grateful for this recognition of the solemness of the grounds we were visiting.
The next day before heading back to Lille, we checked out the Canadian and British landing beaches further north along the Normandy coast. These areas are vastly different from the long wide expanse of flat sand where the Americans disembarked. These troops were facing tall cliffs up from the water's edge to climb, so their task was quite dangerous in a different and formidable way. This whole coastline where the invasion took place has a special feeling about it, and I'm so glad it worked out that we could come here before returning home to the U.S.
It is here in the north of France that you see the signs of the wars that have been waged on these vast plains of Europe. The most poignant ones for me are the many individual, pocket-sized military cemeteries that dot the countryside, most simply carved out in the middle of corn or wheat fields. They are always walled, and filled with rows of crosses or tomb stones lovingly kept bright and clean by someone, with the grass all around each marker clipped to perfection. There are always road signs indicating that a cemetery is just ahead for Regiments of Australians, Canadians, British and some Americans also. Months ago at the Canadian visitor's center at Vimy Ridge, we were given a map so we could find the grave of Jack's uncle, who in the first world war lost his life two weeks before the Armistice was signed. We finally found it off the beaten path, and it too was in perfect order, almost one hundred years later.
After working in Rouen for 2 days, President Poznanski gave us leave to take time for ourselves, so we decided to head to the Normandy coast to see the World War ll Allied Army Invasion sites. All through this area is where the German army tried to repulse the Americans (at Utah and Omaha beaches), the Canadians (at Juno beach), and the British forces (at Gold and Sword beaches). The tide was out now in the late afternoon as we looked at the vast Atlantic ocean before us, and we wondered what it must have been like that day, June, 6, 1944, for the awaiting Germans, to see the vast array of troop ships, battleships, destroyers and support craft spread out upon the waters, coming against them with their might! They did have some strong defenses ready just in case, but they were not expecting the invasion to be in this area because it was not the most direct route from the staging point in Great Britain.
The beaches the Americans stormed onto were vast, flat, sandy expanses with a small knoll in which the Germans had built many cement gun emplacements, all pointing seaward. I can't imagine how it must have been for our soldiers being rushed ashore in those transports, knowing there was a huge probability they could die in the next few minutes.
We were in awe as we drove around the countryside, down narrow roads surely unchanged since those very horrific events that were happening virtually in people's backyards those first few days. The nearby city of Caen looks unlike any other city in France, especially from a distance as it is full of white, similar sized buildings. It unfortunately was in the middle of the war zone and largely destroyed in the fighting. We passed through the famous town where one unlucky American parachutist had dropped next to the large Catholic church and his chute snagged onto one of the spires. The poor kid was a sitting duck, and was soon shot dead by a German soldier. Imagine our surprise (and dismay) to see that poor paratrooper still hanging from that spire when we drove into that little town. The city fathers have made a cottage industry out of that historic incident and there are replicas of the doomed soldier in all the store windows down the town's one main street. The town's name is Ste. Mere-Eglise, and Jack remembered it from seeing the notable war movie "The Longest Day" in France on his first mission in 1961.
The American Military Cemetery is along the ocean not far from Omaha beach, and what an awe-inspiring spiritual place it is. The grounds are pristine in every way - not a leaf out of place, grass like a carpet, and the markers white and gleaming against all the beautiful surroundings. People were walking among the crosses, reading names and musing about all those men who willingly put their very lives on the line for freedom's sake. I can't help but think that men with principles like that had to be some of the best of our nation - a whole generation of good men who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country.
It was a cool and blustery afternoon, yet lots of people were there, with their families in many cases. The thing that really surprised me was that most of the language being spoken was French, and it was evident in their hushed tones that there was reverence and respect being shown at the grounds. Many French people have the point of view that throwing down gum wrappers or other unwanted paper is no crime because there are people employed to pick this stuff up. They are actually 'helping' someone with job security, so what's a little littering going to hurt? But here, nothing marred the surrounding burial grounds at all, and I was so grateful for this recognition of the solemness of the grounds we were visiting.
The next day before heading back to Lille, we checked out the Canadian and British landing beaches further north along the Normandy coast. These areas are vastly different from the long wide expanse of flat sand where the Americans disembarked. These troops were facing tall cliffs up from the water's edge to climb, so their task was quite dangerous in a different and formidable way. This whole coastline where the invasion took place has a special feeling about it, and I'm so glad it worked out that we could come here before returning home to the U.S.
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