What I Learned in Alsace

Our trip began in the city of Strasbourg, in a region of France called Alsace. In case you are unfamiliar with it, this is a region that has deep roots in both France and Germany. The territory has been hard-fought-over by those countries, again and again, and has in the past belonged to Germany at certain times, and to France at others. It is now in French possession, but if you travel there, you will find the culture, the food, the towns' (and people's) names are both French and German. As one of the guidebooks says, the French believe that the natural border is the Rhine River, and the Germans believe that the natural border is the Vosges mountain range. This has created continual disagreement over the territory in between these two gifts of nature.

Wine production is a great part of the culture of the area, particularly white wine. There is a "Route des Vins" which you can follow on a map, visiting vineyards and tasting the wines. It is lush and green and a little bit sleepy. It's hard to picture buildings being shelled, or people dying in uniform there.

I enjoyed being able to visit the place from which my ancestors came. As I walked the streets, saw the architecture, ate the food and observed the landscape, I looked for clues about my great-grandmother's character, as she had a great impact on all of our lives; she is the reason that our family is part French, and we are proud of it. I hoped to find clues to my grandmother's and mother's lives, as well.

The French and German temperaments are quite different. I should know, as my family's heritage lies in both countries. Living side by side over many centuries has not been easy for these two cultures. A great deal of innocent blood has been shed over the territory that both nations covet.

What I gained, most deeply, from being in Alsace was a sense that our personal tragedy (Katie's death) is not just personal; it's universal. Katie's passing is part of the fabric of being a human, here on earth. Families in history have always seen the untimely death of children. War, natural disaster, disease, accident have always broken lives, and there are always, left behind, some who survive those precious ones who die...and who have to live on without them.

I saw a gorgeous landscape that has literally been watered with the life-blood of sons and daughters. It hurt me, to be in this beautiful, peaceful, rural, fertile landscape and to reflect upon this fact, but the hurt wasn't personal; it was human. I saw the futility of those wars, and the land which is still precious, verdant, productive - and which still lies between the same two natural boundaries. It belongs to NO one; it is part of "mother earth." And yet, if my home & family were there, I think I would feel impelled to fight to keep it, and to prevent it from being taken from me & mine.

I saw that my family is no different from the thousands of families in history who have seen a child, of any age, die; that those families are everywhere, and that, like us, they have been left to survive. They have to keep living, because they are still alive. And not only do they live, but they live in the land that speaks to them, daily, of their loved one and their loss. It is part of the fabric of life. We are like them; we are not unique in our loss, and we are not alone.

The cross had told me this, but being in Alsace brought it into me in a new way.