Agnese recounts these days and offers advice for anyone considering a similar venture.
My husband and I cared most that those days be a genuine vacation. This wasn't about dedication or therapy. Beyond our family's presence—which I think helped balance the group—we had an equal number of young men and women. Very soon, the distinction between handicapped and non-handicapped vanished from our vocabulary and our manner. In fact, both groups often needed the same psychological sensitivity and care. By the end of the stay, everyone realized how deeply that shared life together, demanding at times, had enriched them.
How did you find the house?
Ombres et Lumière connected us with a community of sisters who offered us their property—a large, single-story house. We had single and double rooms, and a spacious, comfortable living room that matched the family atmosphere we wanted. We found ourselves there often, especially in the evenings, around the fireplace.
The village was nearby; we could walk there easily. Since the place was close to our city, we visited several times before the stay to get to know it and prepare it. It's so important to know a place before you live there, to make it welcoming and familiar.
Did the sisters show any concern about lending you the house?
That's natural. When you lend a house, you always run risks—more so, though this is a prejudice, when you lend it to a group that includes handicapped members. Things can break. Indeed, we did break some objects. But with extraordinary kindness, the sisters refused reimbursement, saying it was good for them to learn to let go of material possessions. The more serious risks were covered by insurance.
Did you take out insurance?
It was straightforward. We contacted Foi et Lumière's insurer, who is experienced with the risks a group of handicapped people may face. I'd add that it seems very important, when planning a vacation like this, to work with an association. It provides security in many ways.
Very soon, the distinction between handicapped and non-handicapped vanished from our vocabulary and our manner
Very soon, the distinction between handicapped and non-handicapped vanished from our vocabulary and our mannerWhat was the cost of the stay?
We budgeted before we left. By the end, fifteen days cost us the equivalent of 70,000 lire per person, including electricity, gas, and water. Divided among everyone, expenses balanced out fairly. Some gave more, and we closed without losses.
What criteria guided your choice of group members, and how did you put it together?
We didn't set strict criteria, but our choices were shaped by three ideas:
First: we wanted some parents to have a vacation without their handicapped child;
Second: we brought young handicapped people who were independent in dressing, eating, and walking;
Third: we required all participants to accept living together as a community.
Selection came through connections (Ombres et lumière helped us). Everyone came from different backgrounds, which let us share everyone's gifts.
Some friends had never met handicapped people before. Two were studying to be special education teachers; others studied different fields. These too wanted to vacation together. We divided practical tasks among ourselves.
What contact had you had with the handicapped young people before leaving?
Very little, and it caused difficulties. After a few phone calls, we'd visit the family, but it wasn't enough to really know them. Despite a thorough questionnaire, the young people's limitations turned out to be greater than described. I think that's a risk to avoid.
As for the student friends, it seems better to assess their psychological maturity—in my view more important than academic credentials.
What was daily life like?
It was intense and restful at once; intense because of the exchange of experience and ideas, restful because everyone was utterly free to act as they thought served the common good.
We kept a flexible schedule that respected everyone's natural rhythm, so we wouldn't disrupt it. They were, really, the kind of vacations you spend with family. Everyone found things to do, and each person, according to their abilities, helped run the house. You could take walks, read, rest, fetch milk, play…
But all without a set program. So bonds deepened gradually, freely, without predetermined method; everyone acted from the heart and discovered what we might call "Gospel pedagogy." Real friendships formed among some of us.
We took some special walks; we celebrated a birthday with a party. Friends came to visit and stayed for lunch or an afternoon. We lived a normal vacation life, open to nature, sun, and others. One day a priest friend visited and stayed all day with us; we were able to celebrate the Eucharist.
Would you do this again?
Yes, and I think it's a formula worth multiplying because it's restorative for everyone and brings real relief. A vacation is better in a small group, partly because it requires simpler planning. In any case, it's worth trying. Taking a vacation together doesn't mean committing to another.
Did these people see each other afterward?
Yes, and I think that's important: the bonds formed lasted. That's another reason I believe in small groups. You can meet for a celebration, to look at photographs, even one-on-one. You can't see a hundred friends often, but you can see two or three. For this reason too, I think it's better not to bring a young person with a difficult family situation; if you can't promise continuity in friendship, it's better not to start, to avoid painful consequences.
One regret, or rather a deep wish for next time: to find—perhaps with help from a priest friend—a better way to express what moved us most; faith, and the joy of discovering Christ's love revealed in each person's heart as the days unfold.
(Ombres et Lumiére, n. 34)
