Christmas and change
When I was little, one of the worst times for me was Christmas Day morning, just before opening a stocking full of presents. The anticipation of Christmas had built and built through November and December, school had ended for Christmas, Christmas shopping had been finished, as a family we’d done our ritual family-visiting on Christmas eve, Midnight Mass was over and now here I was, staring at my Christmas Stocking and knowing it would be 365 days before I’d wake up to find another one at the bottom of my bed.
A couple of weeks ago, we said goodbye to Sebastien, an assistant in the house who returned to France and welcomed a new assistant, Jeremiah from Canada, to Rainbow. Community living is always a time of goodbyes and hellos – some assistants and core members have been members of the community for twenty or thirty years – Peter has been a member for 33 years – my age today! Others come and go in less than a year.
Changes in Rainbow are always a slightly anxious time in the house – what will the house be like without Sebastien? What will be lost? What will Jeremiah bring with him? Will he chose to really join and belong? It also reminds us that no-one should be taken from granted. As a result, you see relationships between remaining people become stronger, closer, more reliant on each other - more intimate. You begin to cherish those who have been alongside you before and during the changes and will remain after it is complete.
I’m beginning to realise that the remaining assistants in the house and people I consider important friends of mine in the house will not stay forever; at some point they’ll leave to pursue their own lives away from the community and in their place, they’ll bring more change.
I used to question whether this continual change within the house was a good thing. I appreciate that in L’Arche, because assistants usually live in the houses, the houses are that much more stable, more homely than would usually be the case; but surely for core members (people with a learning disability) who’ve seen this change continue for up to 33 years it must be unsettling, confusing and painful at times. I’m sure it is – the loss of Lisa, Roxana and Da-Eun eventually will certainly be difficult for me. But I’m also aware that the things they brought to the house, the energy, humour, deep friendships, were also gifts that were valuable when present and should be appreciated and enjoyed in themselves, rather than only at their loss. Some will keep in touch and visit regularly if they can; others will find it more difficult. But while they’re here, they give me sincere and honest friendships; they accept me as I am, with all my annoying, forgetful, inconsiderate qualities; they’re people I do love, people important to me with whom I have entirely unique relationships.
Christmas for me as a child was a strange time - incredibly exciting, full of expectation. But I guess I’m finally realising at the age of 33 (a little late perhaps), that the anticipation and hope that Christmas brings should be something cherished, enjoyed and remembered in itself, rather than bereaved after the event and remembered at its passing.
Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are changed.
A couple of weeks ago, we said goodbye to Sebastien, an assistant in the house who returned to France and welcomed a new assistant, Jeremiah from Canada, to Rainbow. Community living is always a time of goodbyes and hellos – some assistants and core members have been members of the community for twenty or thirty years – Peter has been a member for 33 years – my age today! Others come and go in less than a year.
Changes in Rainbow are always a slightly anxious time in the house – what will the house be like without Sebastien? What will be lost? What will Jeremiah bring with him? Will he chose to really join and belong? It also reminds us that no-one should be taken from granted. As a result, you see relationships between remaining people become stronger, closer, more reliant on each other - more intimate. You begin to cherish those who have been alongside you before and during the changes and will remain after it is complete.
I’m beginning to realise that the remaining assistants in the house and people I consider important friends of mine in the house will not stay forever; at some point they’ll leave to pursue their own lives away from the community and in their place, they’ll bring more change.
I used to question whether this continual change within the house was a good thing. I appreciate that in L’Arche, because assistants usually live in the houses, the houses are that much more stable, more homely than would usually be the case; but surely for core members (people with a learning disability) who’ve seen this change continue for up to 33 years it must be unsettling, confusing and painful at times. I’m sure it is – the loss of Lisa, Roxana and Da-Eun eventually will certainly be difficult for me. But I’m also aware that the things they brought to the house, the energy, humour, deep friendships, were also gifts that were valuable when present and should be appreciated and enjoyed in themselves, rather than only at their loss. Some will keep in touch and visit regularly if they can; others will find it more difficult. But while they’re here, they give me sincere and honest friendships; they accept me as I am, with all my annoying, forgetful, inconsiderate qualities; they’re people I do love, people important to me with whom I have entirely unique relationships.
Christmas for me as a child was a strange time - incredibly exciting, full of expectation. But I guess I’m finally realising at the age of 33 (a little late perhaps), that the anticipation and hope that Christmas brings should be something cherished, enjoyed and remembered in itself, rather than bereaved after the event and remembered at its passing.
Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are changed.
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