My Birthday Party (Fau family style) and a Jewish Easter

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I'll be honest - I didn't have very high hopes for my birthday party on Saturday, courtesy of the Fau Family. Laetitia,had invited family friends from church, people who tend to be at least 30 years older than me and more Cedric and Laetitia's friends than mine. I was beginning to worry that I'd be the only person my age at the party. After a bit of light interrogation (I'm not too keen on surprises - well it depends whose organising them) I managed to discover that Laetitia had contacted the youth leaders to see if they could get some of the youth group together - this was Friday afternoon and considering Vincent and Elizabeth's organisation skills (Vincent's in particular), I didn't have much hope for anything being sorted.

On the Saturday morning I woke up to the sounds of the family preparing themselves to leave for a birthday shopping trip. After going to bed late the night before after the Tabernacle, I didn't really have much energy or motivation to go with them. Shopping trips with the family Fau sound nice to begin with but after about 30 minutes max they become almost unbearable and you end up regretting that you ever went along.

It was quite nice to be able to get myself ready in peace - there was also a lot of tidying up to be done after the family had left everywhere in a bit of a mess. I didn't mind too much having to do this - I know it was the morning of the 19th birthday but it kept me occupied and helped maintain my depressing, self-pitying mood of 'this is going to be a crap birthday'.

After housework duties were over I finally managed to get myself ready. Not long after 11 o'clock the family arrived back laden with good things to eat including a cake - Laetitia had obviously given up on the idea of making me a Victoria sponge cake but I didn't mind too much. A cake's a cake, right?

Not long after the family's return, Rachel came round to help blow up balloons and sort out the other party preparations which were taking place. As I listened to the children's excitement and the general hustle and bustle of the house as they prepared for my party I began to sense a glimmer of hope and excitement growing within. That hope and excitement went into overload when I was outside doing the laundry and I noticed in the reflection of one of our neighbour's cars that other cars had pulled up round the front of the house - cars which I recognized as belonging to the youth. They had come! I couldn't help a peek through the window - it seemed a good number of them had come. I couldn't believe it! I felt touched beyond words.

A long time seemed to pass between then and the doorbell ringing. In the meantime I surveyed the party preparations taking place in the lounge and opened a few birthday cards from family.

When the bell did ring I was evidently the one who nervously and hesitantly opened the door. And there they all were. About 8 of the youth standing round the door and on the stairway. As soon as I opened the door they launched into a melody of Joyeux Anniversaire, leaving me speechless and very smiley. Gone was the depression and self-pity. Perhaps I'm more well-liked than I realized. But then if I want to be really sceptical, it was also another girl's 18th birthday the day after so it was kind of like a joint birthday party for us both (my point being, they didn't just turn up for my sake).

After the song were the hugs (yes actual hugs from French people!) and kisses and then the party began. It wasn't long before Vincent set off the demands for a birthday speech. At first I refused but seeing how persistent they were, I soon gave in and gave a quick 'thank you' speech - better than nothing and besides it's difficult to express a sense of humour in another language and I wasn't about to try and express mine.

Benedicte, one of the teachers from school turned out to be the only 'aged' guest there so I didn't mind too much.

Moving on to the other important topic - the presents! I got a lovely notebook and pen from the family (I had suspected such a present so I was glad), some Yves Rocher perfume from Elizabeth, a mug from Benedicte, nail varnish from Rachel and a hand-drawn card from Claire and the rest of the youth.

The cake (topped with strawberries) was just as good although perhaps a bit sickly and what with all my emotions, I didn't really feel that hungry.

Once conversation was beginning to run a bit low and I was worried people were getting bored I suggested a game - it was a game I used to play with my youth group, involving a tower of flour and a sweet placed on top. The loser ended up dunking their face in the fallen flour tower in order to retrieve the sweet with their mouth. We had great fun with a few rounds of that.

We ended the afternoon with a dvd of Monsters v. Aliens. Luckily everyone helped to clear up at the end so it wasn't too much of an operation. Once everyone had left all I wanted to do was sink onto my bed and sleep, the last thing I wanted to do was go to a Jewish Passover Feast (I think that's what it was) with the family but that's exactly what I'd agreed to do.

Laetitia had told me it was like the Last Supper which Jesus had eaten with his disciples before his death and she assured me that it would be a truly enriching experience. I went along with high hopes and an open mind.

Seeing as I hadn't eaten very much at lunchtime I was absolutely starving by the time we got to the family's house. We spent a short while at the beginning talking before sitting down for the meal.

When an 8-10 paged booklet got set in front of us and the Jewish hosts began to explain to us what everything represented, I admit my hopes for the evening began to vanish. And sitting there in the modern kitchen/dining room with hunger and exhaustion eating away at me, I found it hard to imagine Jesus having the same kind of meal with his followers hundreds of years ago. All I wanted to do was EAT!! Perhaps not the most spiritual of thoughts but I'm sure Jesus didn't want me to sit there starving either.

And there was so much ritual, which the Jewish hosts didn't seem that familiar with either. There was so much dunking and pouring and drinking. And the only thing I really remember is the salt water on the table which represents the tears of the Israelites in the desert. May God forgive me for my lack of attention and motivation to concentrate.

At one point during the meal, the towel for drying our hands seemed to have been displaced. I pointed to a folded towel over a goblet, thinking they might have just not noticed it. 'Oh no, that's the Holy Cloth, we're not allowed to touch that.' came back the stern reply. Whoops. But it did look incredibly similar to the towel.

Luckily after the Passover Feast came what I call the 'proper' meal - the meal meant for filling our stomachs. Luckily I got seconds of that.

As much as I appreciated the chance to see how the Jews celebrate Easter, I was so glad to leave and finally get to bed. It hadn't quite been the spiritually enriching experience I'd been hoping for but it was Ok, I guess. Another memory to add to the 'My Experiences' album.

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