Emmanuel's Gift

I have to come back now and tell the story of how this film - Emmanuel's Gift - made an enormous difference in how my little family responded to our little tragedy.

The Sunday before the fire - April 30 - I happened to notice an article in the Deseret News. It told about a film that was going to be showing the next night at the Salt Lake Public Library downtown. I immediately knew that I had to go see that film.

Many people who know me are aware that I'm not the most spontaneous person around. I like to plan things because I know that if I plan I can accomplish more than if I don't plan. I can be spontaneous - but only if it will work within the framework of my plans. This film didn't quite work. It was in the middle of the time that Drew had gymnastics class. I knew that she could not miss gym - this was her first week with her new coaches and it was vital that she make a good impression - but I also recognized that the boys and I could still go see it without her. It would be a bother to drive back to Salt Lake, I didn't know how long the film would be or whether we would be able to be there for the entire thing, but I did know that we had to see that film! Most of all I wanted my boys to see it and to somehow be inspired by Emmanuel's vision and courage.

We made it to the library early, checked out an armload of books, then went to get a seat in the little auditorium. We actually tried to go to the little reception going on upstairs, not realizing that it was invitation only. That was embarrassing, but I wish now that we had been a bit more brave and gone in anyway because I think something good would have come out of it.

The film was truly awesome, but we had to leave early. I felt bad that we might be disturbing the others watching it, or that they might wonder why we would leave - especially considering that Emmanuel was there in person that night! But, I had to go get Drew, so we had to go.

All that night and the next day I couldn't stop thinking about Emmanuel's story. Hunter related the entire thing to Drew while we were driving to Ogden that day. I had five orders for photos of houses in the Ogden area, and as I got back into the car from taking the last picture of the last house, my cell phone rang. It was my mom. Our house was burning down.

The kids and I all had a good cry in the car on the way back to Salt Lake. We actually stopped at the gym to tell them why Drew wouldn't be there that night. I'm sure they all thought we were crazy, but it seemed the right thing to do. By then, though, we'd pretty much worked out all of the first sad shock, and were already making jokes about how a mouse had likely sabotaged the wiring and was running away gleefully, cackling in a high-pitched little mouse voice. We joked about how the last of the little fish from my mom's backyard pond was proudly swimming about in his bowl in the kitchen, thrilled to have finally eaten the last of his tinier brothers and sisters, when he started thinking, "Hmmm, this water is getting a bit warm...." We cried some more for our parakeets, hermit crabs, betta fish, and aquatic frogs. Then we reminded each other that there will be more pets, but there will never be more grandparents, and they were safe. That's all that mattered.

I still feel that way, and I know that a large part of the way I was able to react and hold on to that way of thinking was directly related to having seen the movie Emmanuel's Gift the night before the fire.

I actually wanted to go to Park City the next day on the slim chance that I might be able to meet Emmanuel and tell him thank you for inspiring me and giving me the strength I needed to deal with this little ordeal, but it seemed silly. His challenges were so much greater than simply losing a houseful of material things. He never had anything in his entire life like what we had just lost, and yet has been able to inspire people around the world with his vision. It seemed incredibly short-sighted for me to even consider our loss worth mentioning. We had truly lost nothing of any real value. In the end it's just stuff, and stuff does not matter at all.

I hope now that my kids and I will be able to pursue our own visions without the dragging weight of believing that material possessions somehow have value. I know they do not. I think my kids understand the idea better than most. Perhaps there are a few others out there who are beginning to see it, as well.

All that matters is who we are and what we do with the resources we have been given. I hope to be able to live the rest of my life with that attitude, and to teach it to my children so that they can live by the same creed.