Peaches and coconuts

Do you remember the book about the differences between men and women entitled, "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars?" Well, a few months ago a friend of ours generalized the difference between Americans and French in this way: Americans are peaches, and the French are coconuts. Americans are often portrayed by the French as having a sweet, soft exterior. We're usually casual, friendly, and happy to meet new people. However, on the inside we're hard to really get to know. There's often a stony pit inside that squishy exterior. The French, on the other hand, have their hard shell on the outside. Sure, it's tough to crack, but once you're in, you are in for life. There's a sweetness and a goodness that is waiting to be discovered.

There is definitely a stereotype that Americans have about the French. If you ask around, the usual themes are "rude, snobby, arrogant, cold. I have found the opposite to be true. Sure, we've only been in Lyon a week, and we're still definitely in the honeymoon stage. But my experience is that the French people that I've gotten to know have been some of the nicest, most genuine, and most helpful people that I have ever met.

Take for instance, our host family, the D's. We stayed with them during our first week in France, and their hospitality has been over the top. They have busy and important lives. Yet they have spent countless hours to help us in every way you can imagine. Madame D walked with us to the shopping center and the bus station on our first evening to get us oriented. She then showed us how to navigate the public transportation website. When a bee sting infection of mine worsened, she secured an appointment for me with their family doctor, drove me to his office, and stayed to help with translation. On the day we were to move into the apartment (more about that later), she helped load our 10 suitcases into her van, drove across town with us, and even stayed for several hours to help us clean. I was so humbled -- would I have done the same for a family staying with us in the States? I like to think so, but I'm not sure. This woman has four teenagers of her own, and she stays extremely busy keeping up with their summer activities. Yet she had a seemingly limitless supply of time for us.

Another example is François. He and his Korean-American wife, Yonee, have been champions for us since the day we met them at church last Sunday. We spent a lovely evening at their home for dinner the following evening. François has a business that involves importing and exporting, and he immediately offered to help us navigate the complex details necessary to import our shipping palette. He's made numerous calls on our behalf to different companies to try to get us the best deal on our customs fees. On moving day, Yonee was one of six women who helped me try to clean our very filthy apartment. After about 5 hours with very little to show for it, Yonee said, "Enough! Let's bring in professional help!" She called around and found a crew that could come this week while we're out of town at a missions conference. When I asked about payment, she wouldn't hear anything of it. "C'est normal," she said dismissively, as if this display of generosity occurred typically in France.

I think I'll create a new analogy for the French people we've met. They are neither coconuts nor peaches. They are strawberries; abundantly sweet all the way through.

Strawberry Christians: That's what Jesus wants from us--to give our time and our love to others, to radiate an abundant sweetness where ever we go. 
I chose you and appointed you to go and bear  fruit--fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. This is my command: Love each other. 

John 15: 16-17