The Kindness of Strangers
France is a beautiful country. I have been there on a number of occasions, by air, by sea and by rail. Back in the late 1990's, I lived there for a while as part of my university course. I studied French, and learned to speak it, but back in those days, I was not very confident in speaking it. Arriving in a different country, in unfamiliar surroundings, where I struggled to speak the language, I felt very much like an alien, a stranger, in a far off place. I was constantly apprehensive, of being judged, misunderstood, of not fitting in, and perhaps more importantly, of feeling alone.
Upon arriving in France, I unpacked my suitcase, and one of the first things I found was a card with a phone number and address, just in case I needed help or advice during my stay. It was given to me by a friend back home, who had relatives in the city in which I was staying. By my second or third day, my curiosity got the better of me. Who were these people? I had never seen them before. They had never met me, and I had never met them! But I had to find out.
I took the address card with me and remember arriving at the apartment block, taking the lift, and arriving at the front door. I nervously rang the doorbell, wondering what to expect. What would they think of me when they saw me? I could hardly speak their language, they did not know me and had never met me before.
The door opened and I was greeted by smiling and welcoming faces. Not just one, but the entire family. The first words I heard from them was my very own name. It became clear to me that not only were they expecting me to visit, but they were absolutely thrilled that I did. I was immediately taken to a table, made comfortable, and refreshments served. I could hardly understand what they were saying, but their faces said it all. I was welcome. Not just as a wayfaring stranger, but it was almost as if they accepted me as part of their family. In the weeks and months that followed, I received telephone calls from them at my hall of residence ensuring that I was well, and I got many invites for evening meals.
Many of my neighbours in my hall of residence had a Muslim faith. and I will always remember them for their kindness and hospitality, especially when I had come down with the flu and had been feeling very weak and unwell. My next door neighbour would check on me regularly and make sure that I was alright. I would always be invited round for coffee and refreshments. Others would welcome me to their rooms where I was pampered and spoiled with food, drink and friendly companionship.
I was introduced to the University Chaplain, a Catholic, who was very humble and very peaceful. He did not say very much, but he always listened, and very intently. I was invited to come along to the services where I met people from the university. They invited me to spend time with them, drinking coffee at their homes. I got many invites to travel home with them and meet their families.
I remember visiting a pentecostal church, where I was made to feel very welcome by a family that regularly attended. Immediately after the service, I was taken out for lunch. On a regular basis, I received phone calls from them, ensuring that I was OK, and inviting to pick me up by car and take me to various events.
One day, when the weather was cold, and temperatures had plummeted to below freezing, I was walking along the main street and clumsily dropped my money on the ground. As I crawled around to try and pick it up, an elderly lady stopped by and, thinking that I was a beggar, she wanted to help. She was the kindest and most sweetest soul you could ever meet, but I can remember her embarrassment and apologetic look when I told her that I was not begging!
Perhaps my most astonishing and baffling memory of living in France was visiting the local Christian bookshop. One of the staff approached me and welcomed me by my name. How on earth did he hear about me and know about me? I had visited the bookshop a good number of times, but I never spoke about myself or introduced myself. As far as I was concerned, I was completely anonymous - a total stranger! He told me that he had heard all about me from a contact he knew in England. He knew I was staying in France, seemed keen to know whether I had settled in and was doing well.
My time in France is a distant memory. But it has reminded me that God is faithful to us and always meets us, someway and somehow, wherever we are.
"Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go" (Genesis 28:15).
