French la Vie

A Bit of History about my French Village

Corey — Sun, 03 May 2026 11:00:53 +0000

In my village, the church and surrounding hills carry layers of history, legends, and traditions that go back over a thousand years.

The first church here is dated back to the 7th century, though later destroyed during invasions in the early Middle Ages. Around the year 1030, monks connected to the Abbey of Saint-Victor in Marseille rebuilt the church- the village slowly grew again. The church that stands today was later rebuilt over centuries, carrying pieces of each era inside its walls.

One of the oldest local traditions centers on a relic known as “Lou San Sabatoun” — “the Holy Little Shoe.” For generations, people believed it was connected to the Virgin Mary. Some said it arrived from Palestine with early Christians, while others believed Crusaders brought it back to Provence centuries later. The legend became so important that a shoe appears on the village coat of arms.

My village is at the base of Sainte-Baume mountains, deeply connected to the legends of Mary Magdalene. Local tradition says she came to Provence after fleeing persecution and spent her final years in a cave in those mountains.
(photo: from Saint Baume site- The grotto/cave of Mary Magdelene)

Folklore say the river running through the village was formed from the tears of Mary Magdalene herself.

Comments

Love thd photos especially the last photo of your grandson, I ... by joanna
I love that story and the lovely photos. Blessings by Cynthia Thompson

Weekly Top Posts: 2026-05-03

Sun, 03 May 2026 04:00:01 GMT

Open Space-for Beauty to Unfold for All.

Corey — Sat, 02 May 2026 11:00:44 +0000

Life keeps moving.
Through birthdays and funerals.
Through wars on screens and dishes in the sink.
Through heartbreak and grocery lists and mornings where we open our eyes and wonder what we will see.

I walk through antique markets and touch things that outlived the people who loved them first.
A plate, a glass, a dish towel-
A letter folded worn at the corners.
A painting carried through decades by hands I’ll never know.

These things survived.
Wars. Hunger. Floods. Life.

Borders changing names.
Someone packed them into a suitcase once.
Someone held them against their chest while leaving home.
Someone decided this mattered enough to carry.

We keep going while the world turns through joy and tears and tears itself apart and rebuilds.

Nations rise. Countries burn. Children grow up. Somebody falls in love. Somebody else loses everything.

Most of it beyond us.
We protest. Donate. Boycott. Speak. Pray. Hope. Cry. Question. Turn away. Shake our heads.
Then the next morning comes-

Laundry. Lists. Bills. Bread. Invitations. Traffic.
The ordinary for some is extraordinary for many.

I sit in my home with food in the refrigerator.
Hot water. Electricity. A bed.
Things so normal here they almost disappear.
And somewhere else those things are miracles.

Sometimes it feels impossible to hold both truths at once.
Gratitude and guilt.
Beauty and brutality.
Safety built from someone else’s suffering.

Why here.
Why me.
Why does one person get softness while another spends their whole life surviving.

I keep thinking maybe nobody really knows where they’re going.
We pretend.
We make plans.
We speak about the future like it belongs to us.

We plant gardens.
We set tables.
We save photographs.
We pass down rings and recipes and stories.
We keep loving each other.

Maybe faith is just that.
Getting up again.
Boiling water for coffee.
Calling your mother.
Buying flowers.
Holding the door open.

Carrying something fragile through the world and hoping it reaches the next hands safely.

Comments

It is challenging to hold the “beauty and brutality”, the ... by Dottie
Poignant and so true. Thank you by Judy Wilcox
Your writing here has touched me deeply, thank you Corey. by Christine JACOB
Thank you dear Corey for sharing what is in your heart with ... by Kathy
Your reflection is deeply profound —— utterly beautiful and ... by Annafromindiana@earthlink.net
This is one of your best ever. by Maggie Mae

Happy Muguet Day

Corey — Fri, 01 May 2026 11:00:35 +0000

On the first of May, in France, we give muguet- lily of the valley- to those we love.

The Red Hat

Corey — Thu, 30 Apr 2026 11:00:52 +0000

Walking past a shop, a photographer asked if she could take my photo. Hesitantly, I agreed, while giving a sideways glance at my reflection in the window.

That’s when I spotted the red hat- the shopkeeper approved, I plonked it on my head—improving the situation, if not the subject.

The photographer looked slightly disappointed. “I was hoping to catch your face,” she said.

“I’m afraid that flew off a long time ago,” I replied. “This is as good as it’s going to get.”