I returned to France for one final night. In less than 16 hours, I would step off a transatlantic flight, enjoy a fine assortment of French cheeses, tartes and quiches, play in a large concert, say a few more goodbyes, pack most of my possessions into a couple pieces of luggage, sleep an hour and hop on a plane to Berlin. 

Even though it was jam-packed, I was thankful to spend one more evening in Toulouse. The concert was the 20th anniversary of the clarinet ensemble, so I got to play with former members of the ensemble and also a guest virtuoso. My French friends were shocked at his improvisation ability. In the Artie Shaw Concerto, he played a lick from "Happy Birthday," and I got plenty of questions about that afterward. Oh, the freedom of jazz music!

A few of my friends who I didn't have the chance to see before I left for Christmas came to the concert. I also saw other friends for one last time (or, until the next time....à la prochaine). I was reminded of just how many wonderful people God put in my path while I lived here.

I didn't start packing until about 10 p.m., but the adrenaline and caffeine helped me to finish the task. I probably spent too much time trying to maximize every last gram of my 23-kg limit, but everything I could bring with me was one less thing to mail. 

My roommate Lucy helped me get my luggage from the metro to the airport shuttle. This was no easy task. In the haze of jet lag, I didn't transfer my backpack into my large duffel bag in order to be able to strap it on my back. This meant that the duffel bag was more like a body bag – dead weight! 

Anyways, I barely got my luggage off the bus and into the airport. And if it wasn't for a nice airport employee who watched my luggage while I found a luggage cart, I might have missed my flight trying to kick the duffel bag up an incline to the check-in counter! 

All things considered, I had a smooth, short transition from the US to France to Germany. Thank you for however you supported me in Toulouse. I won't forget the chapter of my life story written in France. 

If you want to follow the encore of my French experience in Berlin, Germany, visit my new blog, D. Marie in Germany. 

Merci et à bientot en Allemagne ! 

What does it mean to be patriotic? Is it in outward symbols? 

Is it in the waving of flags, in the singing of patriotic songs and national anthems, in wearing national colors, in speaking a language, in having an army, in watching a parade, in setting off fireworks, in celebrating a national holiday? 

When I came to France, I assumed it was a very patriotic country. Like the United States, it is a historically powerful country. Many countries were originally colonized by France. There are 33 that claim French as an official language (second only to English, spoken as an official language in 45 countries). Both French and English are taught in every country of the world and spoken on five continents. 

While it is true that most French people I have met are proud to claim their nationality and passionate about their language, the manner of expressing this patriotism is displayed much differently. I can't make any assumptions about levels of patriotism in France as compared to the United States. Maybe the age of our countries plays a factor. The oldest city in France, Marseille, dates back to 600 BC. European colonization in the United States didn't begin until 1600, and the country declared its independence from Britain in 1776.  

Perhaps, patriotism in France is more of an inward pride rather than an outward display. According to Myers-Briggs research (that test of E/I, N/S, F/T, J/P), American culture is predominantly extroverted thinking whereas French culture is predominately introverted feeling. 

I may be an introverted feeler, but I grew up in an extroverted thinking culture. So on July 4, although I didn't want to be too obviously patriotic outside of my home country, I still felt the need to wear red, white and blue (no American flags though) and put fireworks and the Statue of Liberty on my Facebook wall. Friends asked me if I was doing anything to celebrate in France. I don't know that there were many celebrations, but I know there was at least one at the US Embassy (which I wasn't able to attend). 

On July 14 (France's national holiday aka Bastille Day), I was prepared to wish all my French friends a "Happy 14th of July," see French flags everywhere and listen to the Marseillaise (the French national anthem) all day long. 

Now I did hear the Marseillaise (granted, the first time was during a performance of the 1812 Overture which was written to celebrate victory over France, but the national anthem was still quoted, nevertheless). There were outdoor celebrations, fireworks and parades (traditionally in France there is always a large military parade). 

However, most people were not wearing "national" colors, and one French friend was insistent that you shouldn't say anything to wish people a happy national holiday (others later said that it was allowed). In church, we sang no patriotic hymns nor did we pray for the country as we often do in the US. I saw one lone French flag (I'm not sure if it always there or was displayed for the celebration).  I heard some French music, but I also heard a great deal of music in English. 

I was surprised by this apparent lack of patriotism. But then again, do outward displays say anything about inner allegiance? Does a flag in my hand make me a citizen of a country? 

I'm not sure how to measure patriotism. It may be that it's not in flags, patriotic lyrics or in grandiose displays of national pride. Nevertheless, I am challenged being outside of my home culture to really consider what it looks like to be a proud citizen of a country. I am also challenged to rethink what it means to be a citizen of the United States and to represent my country well – at home or away.

The whirring of tires and pedals. Jerseys of many colors. A cheering crowd. Cameras. Cries. Concluded. All in about a minute.

When I heard that the seventh stage of the 100th Tour de France would be passing less than an hour from Toulouse, I decided it was time to cross this off my bucket list. A few friends and I made covoiturage (carpool) reservations and set out on a "less-than-a-day" trip to Albi.

The various stages (21 to be exact) make the Tour unique. The infamous yellow jersey is worn by the overall time leader. The green jersey belongs to the rider with the most points. The red polka-dotted jersey goes to the best climber. The white jersey goes to the rider age 25 or under with the best time. There is also a combativity award and team classification given after each state. 

Each stage starts and finishes in a different city. Roads are transformed into a race course complete with cameras, VIP areas, concessions, souvenirs and the like. A couple hours before the riders finish, a caravan passes. The caravan is much like a parade, with floats, candy, hats and excitement.

While all the spectators are having a party, the cyclists are pedaling hard with only their fellow competitors for company. Then in the last few kilometers, they are greeted by the rumbling and screaming of fans (this is a short video of the last of the leaders and the American flag – we ended up behind an overly enthusiastic American).

All this work for a moment of glory. To wake up each day to start the next stage with the same routine. It reminds me a bit of the pace of life. Thirteen years of school to walk across a stage in a room full of people to receive a high school diploma. Four or five more years to walk across another stage for another degree. Years of dating before a wedding day. Nine months waiting to hold a baby. And the list goes on. 

We compete for the rare moments of glory – the times when we get the promotion, have the best car, win the race, but for what gain? The writer of Ecclesiastes writes, "All is vanity.What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?" 

I doubt that Chris Froome, the winner of this year's tour, will wear his yellow jersey forever. One day his prize money will run out. One day he might not even be able to pedal a bike. Then what?

I find it necessary to see a more extensive picture – one where not every camera angle focuses on me, one where my successes matter, not just for me, but for my neighbor as well. One where my failures can be redeemed for the greater good. For me, I find this in my Christian faith. This doesn't mean that I don't compete, but the only prize that matters, salvation, is already won and is offered freely.

For those of you who made it to the end of this post, you will be rewarded. I have one last video to share (this one is not so serious). Just so you know that the tour really does take place in France, here a video of the baguette mascot. Yes, a man in a giant baguette suit handing out pieces of bread, baguettes and hats. Pretty amazing, right? Did I mention that the temperature broke 90 degrees (F)?

I mentioned in my last post that the Toulouse clarinet ensemble that I play with was taped during two of our performances at the open air festival. Well today the director sent us all a link to one of the videos about the festival. 

You can see and hear our ensemble play and also take in the sights and sounds of the day. One of goals of the day was to get people back in touch with the earth and agriculture. There were nature walks and various activities (you can even watch little kids make brioches). 

The video is all in French, so for those of you who are francophones or just want to listen to the language, have fun! The music, of course, is a language of its own :).

Our theme of our RAPP retreat was, "Do you have the courage?" Generally, we think of soldiers, mountain climbers, firefighters and revolutionary leaders as courageous, but what about us?

Throughout the weekend, we considered courage from a worldly and faith-based standpoint. One of the videos we watched was about a 20-something who climbs mountains for a living. He scales steep sheets of ice and wonders constantly if his next move might be his last. He's shared a rope with many friends who have been at the wrong place at the wrong time and fallen. Now he climbs alone. He knows what he does is dangerous, but he can't stop. The summits have defined his identity, and he has given up everything to reach them. He wonders if anyone would love him if he left his solitary life and tried to find community. 

Fear can drive us to be courageous. Love can also drive out fear, making us courageous. This is the difference for me as a Christian. On my own, I am a fearful creature. It's in my nature to hide in shame or try to conceal my weaknesses by an air of strength based on my accomplishments. But I am capable of courage because of God's perfect love. 

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." -- 1 John 4:18

In reading 1 John 4 in context, it is through the Holy Spirit, which abides in believers because of the atoning work of Jesus Christ, that we receive God's perfect love. I have no fear because He is with me. 
 
"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” -- Joshua 1:9

Yes, I do have courage, but this is not of my own, it is the result of the power of God's love at work inside of me. Do you have the courage?

One of my favorite things about being on a team is having the chance to brainstorm together. 

When we were trying to think of creative ways to tell the long story of the Israelites that Stephen tells in Acts 7 (before he is stoned), Binia had the idea that we could do a finger play. 

A play turned into a film that we played for our RAPP (pre-church) event on Friday night. Binia and Lucy did the hard work of creating the scenery and costumes and also spending the long hours of filming on their knees. Special thanks also to my brother Nate (he didn't know he came all the way from the United States to be put to work :)) for being my filming assistant and for the old man who reads the Bible in French (which I found in MP3 format on the Internet). 

I enjoyed doing the filming and editing (and adding sound effects :)). If you watch really closely you might catch a few malfunctions along the way. The film is in French, but for those who are not Francophones, you can follow along in your Bible (Acts 7:2-45). Happy viewing!