You don’t meet many people like her. Céleste LeBlanc Morneault has seen more of the world than most will in a lifetime. She’s lived on several continents, raised children around the world, fought her own battles quietly, and collected stories that are sometimes hilarious, sometimes painful, but always real. Her life isn’t made up. It wasn’t written in a room looking out a window. She lived it, full out.
This is the woman behind Memories of a Globe Trotting Mama.
Where It All Started
Céleste was born in Quebec City in 1954, six weeks early. Her father was a war veteran, and her mother, a woman of quiet strength, held the family together. They didn’t have much, but they had enough. Her first years were filled with movement—changing homes, changing cities—as her father’s military career pulled them across Canada and beyond.
From early on, she watched her mother deal with difficult moves, raising kids in new places, and helping her French-speaking children navigate new schools and cultures. It taught her that stability doesn’t come from buildings—it comes from people. These early lessons stayed with her.
A Military Wife with a Will of Her Own
Céleste married young. Her husband, Paul, was a tall, confident officer in the Canadian Armed Forces. Their marriage pulled her into a world that wasn’t gentle. It came with protocols, overseas postings, and emotional distance that military families know all too well.
But instead of disappearing into the background, she built her identity in this system. She raised her son and daughter under strict regimes, in homes that changed every few years. She made birthday cakes in base housing. She taught her children how to be tough but kind. She turned unfamiliar countries into homes, over and over again.
Her stories are not about Pinterest-perfect family dinners. They are about exploding toilets in France, blackout nights in Jakarta, and trying to raise kids while the world keeps shifting under your feet.
Not Just a Mother, Not Just a Wife
There was a time when people thought that being a mother or a wife meant that was all you were. But Céleste never saw it that way. She travelled. She worked. She dealt with visas, electricity cuts, hospital visits, flooded homes, and cultural misunderstandings with a stubborn kind of grace.
She didn’t complain. She wrote. In letters. In journals. In emails to family. And slowly, a story was building—not of one perfect trip, but of many imperfect ones. From Morocco to Germany to Indonesia, she was collecting pieces of herself along the way.
She also learned to laugh. A lot. Especially at herself. Her sense of humor became her armor. Whether it was learning how to flush a toilet in Jakarta or navigating African roadblocks with armed guards and goats, she found the absurd in everything.
The Dark Years
But not everything was light. Her family went through a long period of pain. Her husband’s military role became the center of a political scandal. They faced public scrutiny. The phone rang with reporters. People who they thought were friends stepped back. The world became smaller and colder.
At the same time, there were serious personal losses. Her father was diagnosed with COPD. There were deaths in the family, health crises, and financial losses. Then came the teenage years, difficult under the best of circumstances. It all came at once.
She refers to this time as “The Dark Years.” They changed her. She became more private. More reflective. But she also became more honest with herself and the world. That honesty shows in her book. She doesn’t cover things up. She tells you how it hurt.
Letters from a New Life
In 2004, they were posted to Indonesia. It was supposed to be just another assignment. But something about Jakarta made her stop and look around. She started writing regular letters home—funny, vivid, truthful updates about life in a country far from her own.
Those letters became a record. Of motherhood. Of marriage. Of weather that made her sweat through her clothes. Of lizards in kitchens. Of loneliness. And love. And strength. People started saving those letters. Some told her, “You should publish these one day.”
And she did.
Why Her Story Stands Out
There are travel books with beautiful beaches and tourist tips. This isn’t one of them. Céleste doesn’t give you a highlight reel. She gives you the real deal. Her life is messy, complicated, funny, painful, and absolutely alive.
She doesn’t preach. She remembers. She doesn’t explain cultures—she reacts to them. She gets things wrong. She gets them right. And she lets you see both. It’s what makes her story human.
She also shows something rare: how a woman can go through so many versions of herself and still hold on to who she really is.
Where She Goes Next
Today, her children are grown and her grandchildren are discovering new worlds. She still writes letters—now to curious readers. She still travels, though less by military orders and more by longing for new views.
Her journey continues. Her heart still beats for late-night chats with in-laws, for the thrill of finding the right naan in a Jakarta market, and for the quiet moments before dawn.
Her story reminds us that life’s greatest adventures happen when we face the unknown. It invites us to step out of our front door with hope and a packed bag of memories.
If you want to see how an ordinary woman lived an extraordinary life, join Céleste. Read her pages. Laugh with her. Learn with her. You just might find a part of your own journey in hers.
