Vincent and I are sitting in our living room in Pennsylvania, watching with horror as the spectacular Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris burns up in smoke and flames.
We are watching the American and French news simultaneously, straining to hear the most recent updates and information.
The French news broadcaster exclaims, with strong emotion in her shaking voice, “This fire is touching the heart of France!”
A National Treasure
“This is a national treasure!” another newscaster states.
More than a French treasure, it represents the world’s cultural heritage—an international monument—a UNESCO world heritage site.
This incredible and world renown masterpiece of Gothic architecture—more than 850 years old—is the most visited cathedral in all of Europe. More than 13 million people enter its sacred space each year.
Sitting here in rural America, we feel a million miles away physically from this catastrophe. Yet, our hearts are grieving as if we were standing right in the middle of the massive crowds gathering in the streets of Paris to watch in horror this shocking spectacle.
Our Hearts Grieve
It just doesn’t seem possible.
Chills and emotions move throughout my body . . . my mind . . . my soul.
I just contacted Robert and Timothee in Europe to tell them the horrific news.
Robert was born in Paris. It is his birthplace.
Our two older boys both lived there for a number of years. We all did. Vincent studied there for several years, and his parents live less than one hour away.
Our family visits the “City of Lights” often. This tragedy hits us close to home—close to our hearts.
You can read more about our family and our story here.
I now have memories flashing through my mind of my many visits to this incredible historical monument. During our years living in Paris, we would always take any traveling family and friends to visit this famous tourist site.
La Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris is iconic and represents Paris—the most visited city in the world.
“Our Lady of Paris” is burning!
A Sacred Space
Entering the cathedral, you could not help but to gasp at the artistic beauty before your eyes, touching deep into your heart and soul. Even for those who would claim to not be “spiritual” nor “religious,” one could not enter this place without being affected by its spiritual atmosphere. Many would be moved to tears as something spiritual transpired deep within—whether one desired it or not.
Silence beckoned one to contemplate and to reflect on God, faith, and one’s own life in this sacred place. It just happened.
But, for now, it burns uncontrollably. The flames engulf its very being. The high-reaching steeple, once pointing up to the heavens, has now fallen through the roof of the church.
A famous symbol of Paris is no more. It is gone forever.
“It is the symbol of the Church in France. The secret of this place. It is impossible for us to see this,” states a French man who is interviewed on the street.
Watching and Waiting
We now watch and wait . . . here in Pennsylvania . . . as Paris burns on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
David and Pierre walk through the door from school. They join us in front of the television screen and watch.
“Is that Paris?” Pierre asks.
“Yes, it is,” I respond.
I turn to David and ask, “Did we ever take you to Notre Dame in Paris?”
“No,” he replied.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, with regret in my voice. David had been asking to visit Paris for several years. We had plans to go in a few months when we would be staying with Vincent’s parents this summer.
We watch and wait . . .
More than 500 firefighters battle the violent blaze with water canons from high-top ladders to save this “national treasure.” They are fighting—to no avail!
People gather now in the night watch—crying, praying, singing hymns.
They wonder if the stone structure of the famous front facade can withstand the heat.
We watch and wait . . .
Devastated and shocked . . . along with the rest of the world . . . in spite of our differing beliefs, our differing faiths, our differing religions . . . the whole world sits and watches—devastated and shocked.
Crying in My Heart
One of my favorite French poems invades my mind and heart as I watch and wait.
“Il pleure dans mon coeur, comme il pleure sur la ville.”
“It is crying in my heart, as it is crying on the city.”
—Paul Verlaine
My heart cries . . . it cries for the city of Paris.
—The Cultural Story-Weaver
Let’s Weave Cultures!
What is your reaction to this world spiritual and cultural tragedy?
We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures”! Write about them in the comment box below.
