St. Ceneri and the Miracle of the Spring

Six years ago I was in the middle of planning my first mission trip with K.J. to Paris to Emmanuel International Church.  Since the trip was in May (our anniversary month), and because we were already there, we also planned to stay a week after the mission trip to do a little extra exploring.  My Pinterest search of beautiful places in France came up with a quaint village that we loved.  I have two blog posts of beautiful May pictures here and here.  

While we were driving that little rental car around Normandy we talked about the possibility of life and ministry in Europe.  We talked about it again with Parker at the end of that trip.  We couldn't have known that six years later we'd be visiting this same little village again with our kids and our lovely music leader from EIC Ternes!  

This visit didn't take place in the full bloom of May, but in the muddy middle of the first week of March.  After a sunny and warm farewell to February, March blew in like a lion, and I couldn't get over how cold I felt.  Once you feel the first warmth of spring it's hard to go back to winter's cold.  Even so, the village was as quiet and peaceful as we remembered it.

We squelched through the mud to the river's edge where a sign told us of a miracle spring that came up centuries ago.  The story seemed a little suspect, both because Why did you need a spring when the river was right there?  and because immediately after the saint required another miracle to get across the river, which to our minds, didn't seem like it would be that hard to swim.  

But the stones that mark the spring are really pretty.

We got caught in a downpour shortly after this, and we all climbed back into the car with wet coats and muddy boots, but it was a pretty little spot to stretch our legs all the same.

Franco Fridays: St. Ceneri le Gerei, part 2

I left off on our walk through this most charming of villages at the panorama view located just outside of the church.

It all seemed too perfect.  I wish the yard with the clothesline and hammock was mine.  
 

At the time there were only two things we could tell you about this church (since we don't read French).  It was VERY old, and there was a beehive inside the wall that for some reason they allowed to stay there.

Then one night we had friends over who can read French, and they translated the sign by the beehive for us.  The sign said that back in 898 Charles III or as he was otherwise known, Charles the Simple, sent soldiers to Normandy because of people there protesting his reign.  The soldiers who were based nearby were disrespectful around the tomb of the founder of the church.   This apparently aroused the anger of the bees who attacked the soldiers, who not knowing there was a cliff nearby, in their panic ran over the cliff to get away from the angry bees and were killed.  Since then, the bees have continued to protect the church.  You've been warned.  We couldn't help but laugh at this family of bees protecting this church SINCE 898.

We walked away from the church and past a cottage that looked like it really could have been the place where Snow White lived.

 I was convinced this was the original house of those famed seven little men.

Next came this:

This little chapel was built in the 15th century.  As we walked down the lane to where it stands alone in the field by a nearby stream, the bell in the church tower tolled, and the only other sound was from the birds' singing.  I'm not trying to be poetic; that was just how utterly charming and perfectly quiet this place was on that Sunday evening.

To top off all the natural beauty around us, we even saw some wildlife.  I just couldn't stop saying, "Where are we?"  

We walked briefly into the church protected by bees then on through the village to the bridge in the panorama view.  We saw a couple of walkers with their dogs at that point, as well as passing a small group walking down to the chapel.

 

This is the cliff off of which the unfortunate soldiers fell.

The two hours spent here were some of the pleasantest of our trip, and KJ had a great surprise planned at the end of the night, too.

Franco Fridays: St. Ceneri le Gerei, part one

Are you ready to step into the dreamiest village you've ever seen?

When we planned our trip through Normandy we didn't really know where we should go, and my online research led me to Design Mom, a blog written by an American living in Normandy with her family for a few years.  I found this post where she shared about this village and how it was supposed to be one of the prettiest villages in France.  I'm so glad we went because it was the most charming place I've ever been.

We parked our car by the river.  I think there was one RV parked beside the river as well.  There was no one else about, and all was quiet.

Wouldn't you want to walk down that road?  Everywhere your eyes fell there was beauty and something to be exclaimed over.  KJ just kept laughing at me because I couldn't stop the exclamations.  That fence!  The roof!  Those flowers!  What is this place?   In fact, last night we went out for a little while for our anniversary, and in his top three moments of our marriage was my delight in this village.  I was pretty delighted, I guess.

Isn't it charming?

This is one of the main thoroughfares in the village; there was absolutely no one about the place except for two or three people sitting outside a bar talking.  We thought about eating, but everything was closed.  It was a Sunday evening, and Sunday evenings are obviously pretty quiet here.

 It felt like every door we passed was photo-worthy.  Not to mention the windows!

I thought those lace curtains in the window were so pretty, and the gates were also in the running for most charming feature.

We just kept walking until we saw this sign up ahead and thought it might be worth our while to follow it.

It was entirely worth it.  My heart could barely take in all of that beautiful perfection at once.  

The view reminded me just now of something I read in high school once when I bought a volume of Emerson's essays.  I've never read past the first page of the book, but the first page gave me this:

The charming landscape which I saw this morning is indubitably made up

of some twenty or thirty farms.  Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning 

the woodland beyond.  

But none of them owns the landscape. 

There is more to come, including an old church protected by bees.