“God must think I’m very strong.”

That was the first thought that came into my mind as I received a text from my friend telling me the news about Notre Dame de Paris burning. My raw thoughts are jumbled in an upset mess, but I can articulate a few things…

Of course, I made it about myself. I really need to stop doing that. But how can I help it when I see the house of my Lord and Savior being engulfed in flames and am emotionally jarred. It was hard to watch. Collectively, everyone watching felt horrible. A piece of history, some say. Art and relics say others.

But what about the consecrated host? The crown of thorns? The altar? It is a church. One that helped me maintain my faith while I was away from home. Being on my own was fun and freeing. But I had made a promise to myself that I would do my best to keep up my faith. And let me tell you…it was very difficult. I’m not trying to make myself sound like the perfect Catholic; I’m not. I was even less of a perfect Catholic abroad, and I’ll be the first to admit that. Only two other of my friends were practicing Catholics, but they wouldn’t come with me when the school didn’t take us (not shaming, just setting up the scene). However, I did make it a point to get to Mass every Sunday, at the very least because I knew that if I didn’t, all heck would break loose. I persisted, even when I didn’t feel like it (let’s just say Saturdays were a little wild sometimes), and got to the 11 am Mass at Notre Dame whenever I was in Paris for the weekend. I rode the metro line 10 from Vaneau to the Cluny La Sorbonne and trotted the short distance from there to the grand structure. I literally almost died getting there one day because I started crossing the street even though the cars had the green light. (This is an attempt at comic relief, but I’m not even convincing myself at this point.) But once I got on line to enter the cathedral, the guards would check bags and attire, and they would always let me go through without a problem.

Every time I entered the building, my heart stopped. The high ceilings and calm atmosphere. The dark aura with sunlight shining through. All the candles lighted for prayers. The side chapels. The rose windows. The blue glass everywhere. This was a place where I belonged. Even far away from home, I found a place where I belong. No human or group of people will ever satisfy me as much as God and His Church. Even miles and miles away from home, I still had the most valuable thing I could take with me…something even pickpockets couldn’t take away: my Catholic faith. If this were an academic essay, I would go into the whole etymological root routine with you, but I will save that for another time and hyperlink it here when/if I write that.

Needless to say, the faith journey abroad was quite lonely. I felt like I didn’t belong in that friend group sometimes because of my faith. Everyone was really nice and accepting, but I couldn’t actually practice and share my faith with them. All of that angst and loneliness disappeared whenever I went to Mass. Solitude was something I grew to know in the quiet Sunday morning rides on the metro. Solitude became my friend and source of strength. I also have a devotion to Notre Dame (Our Lady), aka Mary Mother of God. I prayed to her first before I was able to speak to God directly. As my Marianist education told me, I could get To Jesus Through Mary. I truly believe I am on the right path there. Still, I can barely comprehend that this beautiful cathedral is ruined.

Now, why would I say that “God must think I’m very strong”? Well, friends and family, I am sure you remember, but I lost my dog just about a month ago. So that loss combined with this loss is making my heart feel like it will never heal. And maybe that’s okay. I have been told that being broken does not mean God loves you less. I firmly believe that, and I will affirm to you that even with your brokenness, God still loves you because He fills in all the empty spaces. Bruised, battered, bleeding, and broken are words that describe my heart right now. I’m sore. Just when I thought I had my one cry for the year (yes…I really don’t cry that often), another one hits me. A loss on even playing ground to Walker.

With Walker, I lost something I used to see every day and something I looked forward to going home to. With Notre Dame, I lost something that I saw almost every week and found a home in, and I looked forward to returning to it since Walker was no longer here. But no, they are both gone. And thus it leaves me with the ever pounding question in my head of where do I belong? I have struggled with, and continue to struggle with, this question ever since my Sophomore year of high school.

Anyway, I suppose I should explain the title. The word manquer in French translates to to miss (or missing), but when one uses it, it is different than the way you say it in English. In English, you say “I miss you” or “I miss that place”. In French, you say “You are missing from me” or “That place is missing from me”. It really illustrates that you’re not missing from other people when you say that you long for them. They are lacking from you, and it makes a world of difference. Walker is missing from me. Notre Dame is missing from the world (including me). The lack (manque in French) of something creates a longing.

And Good Lord, the world knows it’s missing its faith in God. Holy Week was a rough time for this to happen. I have no ifs, ands, or buts. As a Church, we have to blind ourselves to the materialism of the secular world at this loss…yes, we lost art and history. That is tragic, and I honestly mourn the loss of them too, especially the original stained glass and rose window. However, we also lost a place that was a site of many conversions, where many people sat in awe and wonder of a sight so grand. A place where faith in God was found or restored. A place where children were baptized. A place where people could pray and talk to God. And that, my friends, is something we lost, more valuable than art or a piece of history.

God must think the Church is very strong. I am the Church. You are the Church. We are strong.

Don’t lose the memories, and please don’t lose faith.

Broken and whole only in Christ,