Becky Canesse: How we came to be what we could see
Do you ever wonder how you came to be who you are?
Not long ago, I was at a community forum when we were asked to reflect on our earliest memory of philanthropy. The exercise took me back to when I was a very young girl; my mother and I were making "poppies" to help raise money for Disabled American Veterans.
After we carefully crafted the bright red petals, green wire stems and small paper ribbons inscribed with information about the DAV, we set out to find the people who would help. Mom held my little hand in hers, and we walked purposefully through the downtown shopping district. One after another kind soul gave money for the cause, and then proudly pinned the poppy to their shirt so others would be inspired to give, too.
We lived in such a caring community in the Black Hills of South Dakota, and it was easy for me to remember instances of charity throughout my childhood.
I can't remember how old I was in that first memory, but I know exactly how old I was one unforgettable summer evening. I was 14, and I remember June 9, 1972 like it was yesterday.
Our family was up late watching Johnny Carson on TV. It had been raining heavily all day. We later learned that, as the rains flowed down the mountains surrounding our community, they converged into a flash flood. Suddenly water came flooding into our home from every direction. The drains turned to geysers of rushing water, forcing its way in everywhere it could, including the windows that were breaking from the pressure.
I was so scared I couldn't tie my tennis shoes. I got one tied and was working on the other one when my mom grabbed my shaking hands and shouted "Hurry up! Let's go!"
By now, the water was chest high as we tried to evacuate by forming a human chain locked wrist to wrist. In obvious futility, my dad shouted, "Get back into the house!" We made our way back through the rushing water in the black of night and watched our vehicles float away and disappear forever.
Rising water continued to fill our home, so my mother ordered the five children into the attic. We watched the devastation huddled together with our faces pressed against a tiny attic window. Burning explosions from gas tanks and colliding vehicles lit up the sky with an ominous red over a sea of debris-filled water as far as we could see.
Terrifying screams filled the night air, most from far away. One scream was very close, coming from the big oak tree in our front yard.
Without hesitation, Dad made his way back out into the turbulent water that was so powerful it washed away our neighbors' homes. As he left the house, Mom bowed her head and prayed. The screaming stranger hugging our tree did not want to let go and battle the raging flood water. But my dad had a way of leading that was clear and non-negotiable, and within minutes he was back inside our home with the stranger.
In a few hours, the light of dawn slowly crept over the devastation just as the black water was receding. The early morning light revealed death and destruction everywhere. In one terrible night, my father's business was destroyed along with our home. We lost almost everything, but we survived. More than 300 neighbors in our small community did not.
The Salvation Army and Red Cross brought clothing, blankets, food and medical attention. In the days and weeks ahead, the Mennonites helped us rebuild, and our friends shared their homes with us throughout the long recovery. I learned the importance of family and friends and the insignificance of material things.
That night I witnessed the strength and courage of my father, felt the peace and power of my mother's prayers, and the outpouring of support from our community and area churches. Now we were on the receiving end of charity.
Through generosity of spirit, this network of neighbors nurtured a safety net for our caring community. These extraordinary role models and childhood experiences shaped my life in ways that are profound and purposeful.
It has been said, "You can't be what you can't see." Our lives are filled with purpose as we live in service to one another.
Through us, others are blessed. Be a blessing to others through the simple to the unexpectedly heroic opportunities before you. Take time to reflect with gratitude on the people and experiences that have helped you be who you are.
As Maya Angelou describes, be phenomenal. You never know who's watching, and how it will impact their future.
Becky Canesse, CEO of Just for Girls, an organization helping to create a brighter future for local girls, can be reached at bcanesse@myjfg.org. She encourages you to take time to reflect with gratitude on the people and experiences that have helped you be who you are.
COMING NEXT SUNDAY: Laurel Lynch, executive director of HOPE Family Services, asks why so many are so quick to judge -- and how a national case has brought back painful memories.
This story was originally published October 12, 2014 at 12:00 AM with the headline "Becky Canesse: How we came to be what we could see."