Counting Blessings with Gratitude from the US to Bourg

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Counting Blessings: Gratitude from the U.S. to Bourg

I referenced many miracles in my last post, and they are all worth mentioning. But where do I even begin?

The early part of this journey was filled with unexpected kindness, from loved ones back home in the U.S. to strangers I met along the way. Each one made traveling “solo” feel less solitary and far more supported than I ever could have imagined.

This past week had its challenges, but even in the chaos, I was blessed.

One example: I successfully found a notary who said, “Normally we’d send you to Paris and you’d wait weeks for an appointment… but we’ll do it.”

Then, almost unbelievably, I managed to catch a DHL driver literally in motion, passing through at just the right time, and I was able to overnight the documents.

That kind of timing feels like more than luck.

It feels like grace.

The Little Fiat and the Gasoline Disaster

My personal favorite miracle, however, was a lesson in humility.

I accidentally put “Gazole” into the “little” Fiat.

In French, that means diesel.

Chug-chug.

Stall.

Luckily, the flap of the gas tank wouldn’t fully open, so I only managed to put in a couple liters before the car made it clear it was not happy with my decision.

But the situation still needed immediate attention. I needed someone willing to drive me around, someone willing to make time, and a man willing to drop everything right before the holidays to tow the car.

And then came the mechanic.

A selfless, kind-hearted mechanic who drained the pipes and took a look at the car on Christmas Eve. After he finished, he said, “Not workin’. Come back in January after I return from holiday.”

Fair enough.

But no sooner had I returned home than I got a call.

The “little” car was ready.

His heart grew two sizes too large. He fixed it anyway, even though he didn’t have to.

I looked him in the eyes and told him what I felt in my spirit: I see the good in you. I appreciate the who that is you.

You are a Christmas miracle.

I hugged him, grease and all.

And then I handed him a bottle of spirits for his trouble.

Safe travels. Have a ball.

History in Bourg: A Walk Through Time

Along the journey this week, I visited the Castle of the Citadel of Bourg, as well as the Undergrounds & Carriages Museum.

The history of Bourg is layered and remarkable.

The site includes remnants of a Gallo-Roman villa of Pontii, medieval structures, and a 16th century castle. The citadel was destroyed, rebuilt in the 1700’s, then destroyed again, and later set on fire during the Debacle in August 1944.

In 1963, the city rebuilt the Charterhouse, keeping only the exterior walls. The formal gardens and terrace overlooking the Dordogne River now give the site a beauty and character that remains a source of pride for the Bourquais.



Roses in Winter

And in those gardens, I experienced my true Christmas miracle. There in the courtyard, in the dead of winter, grew beautiful roses.

It felt like a sign from my mom.

My mother was the only person I ever knew who could grow roses in winter.

I stood there and prayed. I reflected. I remembered that all that is good comes from within, and love never truly leaves us.

A Quiet Reminder

Later, driving back, I found myself sitting near the Moulin, reflecting beside a 12th century church.

It’s amazing what becomes clear when you stop long enough to listen.

Each day, count your blessings.

See goodness, even when life feels difficult.

“Do no harm. Do good whenever possible. Treat people the way you want to be treated.”

These are the principles I live by.

And I’m reminded again and again that roadblocks come for a reason. Your journey is never truly solo. There is always someone, sometimes many people, meant to share the victories, the joy, the love, the losses, the highs, and the lows.

All of it creates unity.

And unity is what was always intended.

Because we are all one.

Have yourself a Merry “little” Christmas.

Love & Light,
jMf







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