What this association offers is a small thing, but alive, full of power: taking handicapped children out of institutions and hospitals for a weekend or a few days of vacation; giving families a chance to catch their breath.
We offer it to our readers as an example and inspiration, hoping that some parish groups—and others—will feel moved to undertake something similar.
It is more productive to roll up your sleeves than to criticize the existence of institutions or the parents forced to use them.
Saturday morning, 8:45 a.m.: a small group of young people gather at the meeting point. With Tugdual Derville, 26, who founded the association two years ago, Sophie, 23, and Cécile, 24, we climb into the minibus called "With Open Arms." We're taking Pierre, a nine-year-old boy, severely handicapped and very agitated—we can barely keep him from pulling off his shoes. We head toward a specialized center to pick up Hocine and Emmanuel.
Hocine and Emmanuel live here at the center year-round, in a rehabilitation ward with 70 children. As soon as we arrive, the children run to meet us—many have already spent weekends with "With Open Arms." Hocine is in a wheelchair; he's 11, with cerebral palsy (spasticity). He's intelligent but cannot coordinate his movements and speaks with great difficulty. Emmanuel is deaf, doesn't speak, sees poorly, and moves only by crawling. He's nine years old. Hocine's and Emmanuel's families can take them home only rarely.
We spend a while greeting the children; Tugdual checks in with the assistants and nurses.
Only Marina is left—we pick her up at her home in Neuilly. She's also in a wheelchair, paralyzed.
Off we go to Sailly, 60 kilometers west of Paris, with one last stop at the supermarket to shop together for two days' worth of food. Someone has lent us a house in a residence in the middle of a park—the thirty-fifth house loaned to the association since its founding.
Tugdual, how did you come up with this idea?
It took shape with the others. For me personally, it was love at first sight with these children. It all started at Lourdes.
Seven years ago, I took part in a national pilgrimage; I was working in a ward for handicapped children. I discovered how much it enriched me to live with them. At the same time, I was troubled by the way certain people looked at them. I heard things said (and the children heard it too): "Thank God my children aren't like that!" It seemed clear to me that we had to move beyond pity and live alongside them with a spirit of friendship and joy.
During the year, I volunteered in a hospital. Many children in the ward could have gone out, but they never had visitors. On Christmas Day, I learned that Sebastian had died. He was two years old. He had never left the hospital.
Then I met the association "The Child at the Door," run by Bernard Raboine. That experience changed my life deeply. The idea took root and grew with my friends: Florence, Philippe, Piluca, Agathe. Soon Nicolas, Hedwige, Anne-Constance, and others joined us. In April 1986, the association "With Open Arms" (À Bras Ouverts) was officially born.
Which children do you prioritize?
We welcome children with various disabilities, often multiple ones (mental and physical). Some are abandoned and supported by DASS (the French public health authorities, ed.); others live full-time in institutions because their families live far away or cannot manage their care; others split time between the institution and home, where parents need periodic relief (they're going through stress or depression).
Of course, we give priority to children or parents in particularly difficult situations. A child without family needs greater continuity of care; exhausted parents ask for urgent help.
Emmanuel is still difficult, and there is deep anguish in his heart. When we first met him, he was withdrawn, violent, depressed. No one could come near him—he refused all contact. Gradually, he accepted our friendship. After weekends away, he would cry hard when it was time to leave us. Over these two years, he's had truly difficult moments, breaking things. Now he seems more at peace and gets by better. Last year, when he lost an eye and was moved to another hospital, I realized during his absence how much I loved him. I went to see him after the operation and played with him on all fours in the hallway while the nurses watched in wonder.
Who are your volunteers, and how do they get involved?
They're young people, mostly students. Some work. There are already 120 of them, and they've spread the word to each other.
While we prepare lunch, I ask Cécile how she decided to come. She answers:
"You live for others! I mean, for them too! Otherwise, you fold in on yourself and think you're the most unhappy person on earth!"
Sophie is 23; she's a software engineer. Since she was 13, she's thought about disabled people: "I visited national parks in the United States. It's beautiful. I thought: how lucky to see! If I were blind... Two kilometers down the trail, there was a path reserved for blind people or anyone who wanted to experience blindness: 'Close your eyes and let yourself be guided!'
This weekend, I saw that Sophie and Cécile had truly let these children—who took them by the hand—guide them.
How does your association survive financially?
Houses are donated to us. Each group brings sheets, blankets, food, and pocket money.
We ask parents to contribute 40 francs per day per child. Many cannot afford this—the actual cost runs about 170 francs per day. The Foundation of France, Radio Notre-Dame, and the Rotary Club have helped us.
Some friends have organized "Rice Bowls" and theatrical performances for us.
(Rice Bowls is a common French fundraising method. You invite friends to dinner and serve them only an unseasoned bowl of rice. If they wish, they give the price of a restaurant meal to support a particular cause.)
Have you sacrificed much for "With Open Arms"?
I have the impression that I've let go of things that were quite secondary and discovered things that are essential: friendship is possible with people very different from ourselves. At first, you think you're helping, but the children have taught me so much about humanity, about myself. I learn from them openness toward others, a new way of living. I'm proud of the children of "With Open Arms."
What difficulties have you faced?
We're reaching toward an ideal, and we feel so far from it. In the area of education, we have many questions. For instance: what acts of authority are appropriate with these children? Sometimes, an act of authority is a sign of respect and love for the child; sometimes it's a sign of our helplessness or anger.
Another difficulty: we sometimes aren't available enough to new volunteers because the children need so much attention and so much time. To solve these problems, we need to build a unified and responsible team. I think we'll get there gradually. Each person has a place, a role. It's necessary because the administrative tasks are very heavy.
How can you help us?
We need financial donations to welcome these children. We're looking for a house close enough to Paris. That would spare us from searching for new accommodations every weekend and carrying sheets and blankets back and forth. It would be a home for the children and for us.
And above all, we need your prayers so that "With Open Arms" becomes truly a community, always more able to love. That's what we ask for each time our group gathers to pray.
- Cécile d'Ermitanis, 1988 - Shadows and Light no. 74