So this is how it feels like to lose a childhood home to fire….

credit: Francois Guillot/AFP/Getty Images

I never knew that Notre-Dame occupies a big space in my consciousness until now that a vast part of it is gone. I remember sitting on uncomfortable chairs wedged between my strict mother and my strictER brother. I remember being shushed by another embarrassed brother for invoking loudly, “Au nom du Pere et du Fils et du Saint-Esprit” in an unmistakably American accent. I remember smiling back at strangers who smiled at me, a bored hoyden trying to behave like an angel for an hour.

When I grew older and returned to Paris on my own, I would often choose to attend mass here in the cathedral in the middle of the island, instead of the American Catholic Church near the Arc de Triomphe or the parish church within walking distance of my apartment. Teenage years brought out (or perhaps, magnified?) the rebellious streak in me. But while I opposed, challenged, and deconstructed a lot of things during my time of “existentialist angst,” my belief in a Supreme Being never collapsed.

And I thank Our Lady, Notre Dame, for this. She protected me.

When I meditated in her cathedral that has witnessed eight centuries of prayers, heartaches, joys, sufferings and adoration, I understood better than Einstein’s Theory of Relativity that my most pressing problems of the day were all relative. They don’t even qualify as a footnote in history. There is a Supreme Being infinitely loving, wise and benevolent in charge of my imperfections and smallness.

And I knew that my important work, i.e., my life’s journey or my so-called “self-discovery,” isn’t going to be completed in a single day.

Notre-Dame’s arches, pillars, sculptures and stained-glass windows took centuries for master guilders’ hands to complete. Shouldn’t I at least wait patiently and humbly for God’s grace and mercy to work on me too? lol. I’m such a rough-hewn stone that if I were a builder, I’d have no qualms rejecting myself like that proverbial cornerstone.

I can continue reflecting on Notre-Dame’s influence on me over the years but you don’t really want to be my therapist. Trust me, you would want to be paid in beaucoup dollars. hahaha.

So let me end with this final thought.

One of the last things I did last night was to dig up my sons’ pictures at Notre-Dame. Every time we visited Paris, they posed in a similar way in front of the cathedral to mark the passage of time. They stood arms embraced, side by side, like the two towers of the cathedral. The last time we went as a family, they were only in high school and their Nana and Gramps joined us. It was the last trip with their Gramps. He passed away shortly after that. Last night, I emailed my sons their pictures with an encouragement for them to donate to the reconstruction efforts.

I believe that childhood homes live on in people’s hearts. Fire cannot extinguish what’s buried in our cherished memories. And Notre-Dame isn’t just a French patrimoine; it’s our world’s heritage, too.

In the same way that 800 years ago, a community of believers built Notre-Dame using the best efforts that the medieval world could offer, a community of believers will now rebuild this awe-inspiring edifice to its glory again using our generations’ best talents. Instead of being an irrevocable loss, I see the days, months, years and decades ahead as a time of renewal in our devotion and deepening of our faith in God.

I pray for Our Lady’s intercession as we begin the glorious task ahead. “Remember O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to Thy protection, implored Thy help or sought Thy intercession, was left unaided.”

Credit: Philippe Wojazer/Pool via AP