As I mentioned previously, I was in the sixth grade when we came back to California for a year after having lived in France for four years.
Other than a traumatic year at school, I have two other memories that stand out: church and hamburgers.
One of the main reasons we needed to come back to the States every four years was to reconnect with our supporting friends and supporting churches, as well as to make new connections with other churches and individuals.
That means that we went to a different church Every. Single. Sunday. And I would have to listen to my dad preach/speak the same message Every. Single. Sunday. Fortunately, my dad's a pretty awesome speaker. Unfortunately, that didn't stop me from being bored out of my mind. After a few months I got to where I could mouth the next words of his message. There was a lot of doodling on the back of church programs.
In addition, many kind and generous folks would want to talk to us after church. They would usually look at us kids and note "how much you've grown!" And I would think "DUH", but I had the good sense not to say it out loud....
And then .... inevitably.... came the invitation to have lunch with them. A different family every Sunday would bring us back to their home for a meal.
Such generosity.
BUT. For some reason, everyone thought that we couldn't get hamburgers and hot dogs in France. (We could and did!). So what do you think we ate Every. Single. Sunday?????? You got it.
And it was all I could do not to roll my pre-teen eyes and moan "Hamburgers AGAIN?!?!"
