Tag: needs

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Raising the Lady

When Notre Dame de Paris burned, the world mourned.

Then the destruction was halted. And that’s when things got more complicated.

Not for the rescue itself. The French firefighters who battled the fire and stopped it in time to save the main edifice have received a flood of praise, and rightly so. They stood in the face of an inferno that could have completely wiped an irreplaceable monument from the face of the earth, and successfully told it “No. This far, and no further.” That act of stubborn defiance deserves all the praise the world can give, and then some.

The complications came when the donations started rolling in.

Millions had watched the grand cathedral burn. And millions began to be given for its restoration, some of it from some of the world’s wealthiest people. And that’s when the questions started.

“Where were these people when the hungry needed to be fed and the naked clothed?”

“What about the churches that aren’t so famous or lucky?”

“The Catholic Church has plenty of money; why don’t we give ours to (cause) instead?”

“How many problems could be solved if these people would stand up for them as quickly as they did for a famous monument?”

They’re challenging questions. They’re meant to be. The only one that truly has a “wait a minute” answer is the one about the Church: Notre Dame has been owned by the French government since 1905, and its funding for art and infrastructure projects is … well, about what you’d expect from many governments, actually. (There’s a reason that even before the fire, restoration of the cathedral had moved at a snail’s pace.)

But there’s some justice in the overall line of questioning. Yes, we should be helping the needy more than we do. Yes, there are many causes that are not in the spotlight that need the aid of all of us, rich and not-so-rich alike. Yes, giving is something that should be on our mind all the time and in our own backyard, not just when a famous site burns half a world away.

But.

At the same time as I acknowledge the truth of all that, I’m also not going to disparage giving that adds to the joy and beauty in the world, either.  That also fills a need.

Both sorts of causes are worthy. Both deserving of our attention. Both make the world more of a place worth living in.

Locally, there are plenty of ongoing causes that need support, from outreach efforts like HOPE and the OUR Center to newer initiatives like Sharing the NextLight. There are also people who gave to build a theatre marquee in the downtown, or an auditorium for the Longmont Museum, or a number of other, finite projects where a final goal could be reached. There are likely donors who have done both, and are doing both.

All of it adds  to the life we share.

Are there folks whose public giving is purely for the accolades? Certainly. Are there folks who give quietly in the shadows whom we never hear about? Absolutely. Are we right to be cynical about the former and smile on the latter? There’s at least 2,000 years of precedent for doing so.

But whatever the motives, whatever may lie on a person’s soul – if the giving is doing some good somewhere, then it’s worth the having.

And whatever judgement we may pass on another’s motives, we surely know our own. There are needs we see, that we can support.

Support them. However you can. To lift someone up. To create beauty. to make something more for all of us.

Great or small, those deeds shine as bright as any cathedral.

And they stand with a power that no fire can take away.

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Making the Takeoff

My mind had become a steel trap, my body a living extension of my car.

Gone was my usual, doubtful sense of direction.

At that moment, no version of Google Maps could have plotted a more efficient route, and no GPS unit could have outguided the conversation in my head.

“This light is always fast, but turn anyway; there’s a truck ahead … ok, this can be a 10-minute run if there’s no cross-traffic on Mountain View … 17th is slow this time of day , be aware of conditions….”

Medical emergency to attend to? Package to meet? Natural disaster to outrun? No, no, and no. This was far more vital.

In roughly 15 minutes, Missy’s van would be arriving to take her to art class.

So in roughly 15 minutes, I had to be there, or she would refuse to go.

As regular readers know, life with our disabled ward Missy is both wonderful and curious. In the seven years that Heather and I have been caring for her, we’ve gotten used to a lot of things. The overstuffed purse that comes with her everywhere she goes. Her ability to love and rejoice in simple things, whether it’s acrylic paint or pie at dinner. The way she latches onto the details in a bedtime story, or seems to remember every person she’s ever met.

But some of them take a little more adjustment. Of those, the most notable may be her reluctance to take off from the house on an activity unless I’m there to see her go.

There are occasional exceptions. If Heather can talk her into waiting together in the front yard, or if the driver seems cute (yes, really), or if the van comes exactly when she’s on the threshold of the door, there’s a chance. But even then, it’s a roll of the dice without the best of odds.

It’s not a dislike of the activity. Once she’s at art, or the bowling alley, or her trip of the day, she has a blast. But for whatever reason, Missy needs to have the full team at home before she’s ready to leave it. Maybe she wants to make sure I’m OK. Maybe I have the deep, authoritative voice that she’ll listen to. (Relatively speaking; my timbre is more-or-less normal, but compared to Heather’s vocal pitch, I’m Johnny Cash.)

But the need is there. And once in a while, when the need just can’t be met, she’s missed some fun things because of it.

I can sympathize with that a lot. I think most of us can.

After all, there are always times where it’s just not easy to let go.

Sometimes we’re holding on to memories that won’t let us move forward. Sometimes we’re holding on to fears that keep us back. Sometimes, for the best of reasons, we’ve convinced ourselves of a need that isn’t. It might be a harmless “magic feather” like Dumbo’s that’s just needed to build confidence, or something much more toxic or dangerous that would be better left behind, if we could just figure out how.

But in all those cases – good, bad, or ultimately harmless – holding on can mean missing out. We lose opportunities because we’re just not ready.

There’s not a magic light switch to change that. All of us become ready for things in our own time, in our own way. But we have to know the choice is there and in our power, or we’ll never reach for the next thing at all.

I’m pretty sure that Missy knows. And I don’t mind being part of her launch party as often as I can. What caregiver, or parent, or guardian, doesn’t want to be loved and needed?

But when the day comes that Mission Control can repeatedly report a successful takeoff of the USS Missy, without hesitation or reluctance, that too will be welcomed.

And then, at last, the GPS can go off duty.

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It Came Upon the Small Screen Clear

It’s the simple things that mark the arrival of the holidays at Chez Rochat.
Things like discovering which of our pre-lit tree’s lights have pre-burned out, so that we can have the stimulating mental exercise of finding and untangling our old string.
Or the eternal debate as to whether decorating is better done to the strains of John Denver and a chorus of Muppets, or Alvin and his band of helium-voiced chipmunks. (Making the tally “FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!!” versus one “HUUUU-LA HOOOOP!”)
But never is Christmas more surely on the way than when the subsonic tones of  Thurl Ravenscroft begins rumbling from our television speakers.
If you don’t recognize the name, I dare you to read the following words without hearing it in his distinctive voice:
“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,
 You really are a heel …”
OK, how many sang along?
Thought so.
In a time when traditions seem to have the lifespan of a Raiders fan on Bronco Sunday, a family’s holiday movie choices are all but unshakeable. I have known people who could do without sleigh bells and snow, but would consider the season incomplete if it passed without just one more viewing of Die Hard. (“Yippie-ki-yay to all, and to all a good night.”)
It’s comforting. Reassuring. Familiar, to the point where if the TV burned out, everyone could quote their film of choice letter-perfect – in between jokes about which Clark W. Griswold light display burned things out this time.
For us, it’s a quartet: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, A Charlie Brown Christmas, A Christmas Story (yes, the never-ending chronicle of the Red Ryder BB gun) and the George C. Scott version of A Christmas Carol. These old-school classics have dominated the networks, our shelf space, and significant portions of our family’s  gray matter, to the point where we can mentally count down the moments until Ralphie “didn’t say fudge” or the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come rolls through the graveyard on a hidden scooter board. (Hey, special effects are expensive.)
But these four have a lot more in common than their deathless production values. In each case, the story centers around what we think we want versus what we need.
Charlie Brown sets lights  and aluminum trees  against “what Christmas is all about.” Whoville celebrates not the stolen gifts, but the togetherness that lay at their foundation. Mr. Scrooge famously has his priorities shifted in one night, and even Ralphie’s story, the most materialistic of them all, is less about actually getting the coveted BB gun (which – spoiler alert – loses its charm after one accident, anyway) and more about getting a grown-up to actually listen to him for once and take him seriously.
In each case, it’s not about the stuff. It never really was.
OK, maybe it’s a little corny to say it out loud. But at a time when most of us are frantically trying to get through the holiday decathlon, maybe it’s not bad to claim a moment of quiet and think about why we’re doing all this, beyond muscle memory and social expectation.
Is it just about easily-torn paper and misplaced decorations? Does it really come down to whether we can make enough clicks on Amazon before time and money run out?
Or is there something else? Something not just limited to a few weeks in December?
That’s the real gift. And it’s one we’re all going to need going forward.
Though if you still want that hula hoop, I completely understand.