Louie is an interesting man to me. He's very intelligent, talented and dynamic. Though he could live quite well off his private business, he still works at Walt Disney world, being all these silly characters and putting on all kinds of goofy shows. He does it because he has found true joy in life in serving others. Oh sure, not exactly in the traditional sense that we tend to think of "service" in the Church, but that is what he does. He finds joy in making other people happy, in helping to create moments of joy for them that they'll remember their whole lives.
Still, putting on a show everyday, no matter how noble your intentions, is hard for anybody. There are days when you're hot and/or tired and/or have a thousand other things on your mind and/or just plain don't want to be at work today. So what Louie does is he remembers what he calls "contact moments" to remind him why he's there and what he's willing to be. Those moments when he lit up a little kid's face, or connected with a grateful parent, and so on and so forth. Last night, he asked each of us to identify at least one contact moment at McDermont to rely on to remind us what we're willing to be.
Its been a rough couple of months. Because this is such a huge project and because there are so many other big projects going on at the same time, things keep getting pushed back. Originally, our Grand Opening was scheduled for June 21. It was a big weekend, with lots of press and VIP events, etc., but it was no grand opening. The third building (the bulk of the facility) was nowhere near complete. The Flowrider opened very, very successfully on August 1st only to be shut down by OSHA 3 hours in because we failed to apply for a permit we didn't know we needed. We wanted everything to be done for Labor Day, then for Halloween. We're now hoping it will all be complete by Christmas. Everyone's ready and anxious to put on a show, but we still seldom have an audience because of all the delays. Everyone is getting impatient, exasperated at times with all the understandable questions from fans. No one knows all the frustration and tension better than Doug, Brad, Clint, Scot and Louie. But they know that the staff feels it, too. That's why right now those contact moments are so important. They hold us over and get us there--the first downs we can reach before we're ready for a touchdown.
I've had lots of them. Many of them have come when I've been giving tours (being so new and all, a lot of times people will come in and just ask if we can show them around). Somewhere along the line while I'm showing them the building and telling them our story, I'll see that moment where it clicks for them. This look comes across a person's face when they first begin to grasp the depth and scope of what we're doing, of what it must've taken to get to this point, of what it's still taking, and of what it could mean for Lindsay, the county and the Central Valley. I love seeing that instant when it starts to come together for someone, and my own wonderment--sometimes lost in the long hours, stressful days, delayed deadlines, frustrating days with coworkers--is renewed again.
But my most important "contact moments" have come when I haven't been at work. Its when we're driving down the road and Keilana hears an add on the radio and squeals with delight, "They're talking about our McDermont!" or sees an add on television and exclaims, "That's my daddy's Flowrider!" Its when I walk out the front door and Dylan tries to bolt across the street to McDermont. He knows and loves it and is always anxious to be there again. Its watching basketball games from the catwalk in the Red Circle building and remembering carrying my newborn son around that catwalk before it was finished, painted and filled with seats, before the sport court flooring and basketball hoops were there.
When Dylan was born, Doug was showing Mom, who had flown down from Montana, his Sketch Up models of the Red and Green Circle buildings. A year later, when she flew down for his first birthday, Doug took her around the catwalk, where they were still leveling out the north end of the concrete floor, getting the Lazement painted (it still didn't have any walls or props) and walked her through building B, which was still empty except for a mostly finished front counter. Now, a year and a half later, we've come so far so fast: we're now running a men's basketball league; have had numerous successful tournaments for basketball, volleyball, and dodgeball; we're running a popular laser tag arena; a great, state-of-the-art arcade; multiple birthday parties and private events every week; have had several concerts (with more on the schedule). The Flowrider will be open for Labor Day weekend, and the skate park shortly thereafter.
A good chunk of our life revolves around McDermont, and that can be exhausting and frustrating at times. But I relish the thought that my oldest children's memories will be filled with McDermont. I take pride in knowing that I will either raise my children here or bring them back when they are older, where they can see the growth and flourishing of this little experiment--dreamed up and risked for by this little group of believers who could see more than most would ever dare imagine. I look forward to reminding them that Daddy was, in many ways, a huge part of making all of this a reality. I was there. We helped build it up. We've poured endless hours of effort and time and often blood, sweat and tears into this project because we trust that the rewards--not only to us, but to everyone who visits--will be well worth all of it.
Knowing that I will be able to tell my children this story first hand, to help them learn about idealism and risk, about hard work and dedication, about possibilities and opportunities, keeps me grounded. Outside of Lindsay, so many people in our life don't yet appreciate what is happening here, but I know that someday they will and I'm grateful that my children will be able to smile and say, "My family was a part of this."
No comments:
Post a Comment