St. Genevieve (422 to 512)

   How can people have so much admiration for Mark Twain when he said so many horrible things about the French? It's disgusting that he'll always be remembered as one of the greatest American writers when he could speak that way about a country and its people.
  It could be that I'm half French and I don't want to hear negative things about my heritage. I also work for a French company. So, I've been thinking about France quite a bit lately and would love to return there for a visit.
  Since this blog will come to an end on December 31, it wouldn't be complete without mention of St. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris.
  She was born a poor peasant girl in Nanterre, France in 422. When St. Genevieve was a young child, St. Germaine of Auxerre visited her neighborhood. She told him she wished to live a spiritual life devoted to God and he encouraged her to become a nun. At age 15, St. Genevieve took her vows.
  She helped the poor through charitable acts. St. Genevieve was a vegetarian and ate just two meals a week. Her days included communicating with people in the afterlife and also experiencing visions and prophecies.
  Many people made fun of her for this behavior. However, that stopped when Attila the Hun was about to invade Paris and St. Genevieve told them to fast and pray. Through divine intervention, he changed his course.
  St. Genevieve died in 512 and her feast day is Jan. 3.
 

St. Reparata (3rd century)

She had curly, blondish-brown hair, hazel eyes, a turned-up nose, and a skinny almost little-boyish-type body. If I hadn't just gotten off the train in Nice, France, I would have thought I was looking at myself in my bedroom mirror.
It is said that everyone has a twin and this girl, who was about my age (26), stopped in her tracks (excuse the pun) when she saw me. We looked at each other and continued on. If I had any doubt that I wasn't half French and half Italian, it was now gone. Here I was on the border of the two countries and saw someone who looked just like me.
I only spent a couple of days in Nice. The beaches were rocky and the pastries were supreme. I even managed to lock myself out of my hotel room wearing only a lace bra and matching thong. I guess the concierge had seen it all before. He wasn't the least bit surprised when I slipped into the lobby and asked for a spare key.
"This happens all the time in France," he said with the wink of an eye.
Nice is home to the Cathedral of St. Reparata. She was born in the 3rd century in Caesarea, Palestine. She was tortured for her faith as young as 11-years-old. Most of what is know about St. Reparata is through legends. She was thrown into a hot furnace and survived. Later, when she was beheaded, her spirit rose up as a dove.
Her body was placed in a boat and the angels blew it to Nice at the Baie de Anges. Her relics were brought to the cathedral in 1690. St. Reparata's feast day is Oct. 8 and she is the patron saint of Nice.