Our Edelweiss community in Messina has already held two celebrations, and young people have arrived at both—unexpectedly. At our most recent gathering, we welcomed a group of young people doing an Erasmus exchange here, from different parts of the world. They felt so welcomed and included that one of them, from Algeria, whose brother has Down syndrome, asked if he could bring his brother next time. His brother visits every month with his family.
At our first gathering, a community friend brought two of her friends, and one of them, Jessica, wrote a beautiful account of what she experienced. I'd like to share it with you:
"I sometimes ask myself, 'Why do we foolish human beings always complicate everything?' Take happiness, for instance. We've convinced ourselves it's an unreachable goal, or nearly so. We've decided it's a luxury reserved for the few. Well, today I learned otherwise. People taught me—people we commonly call 'disabled,' but whom I find it more fitting to call Super Heroes. Yes, Super Heroes. They save you. They save you from coldness, from superficiality, from selfishness, from sadness.
They are Super Heroes because they teach you to love
They are Super Heroes because they teach you to love. In a morning spent with them, I had only to watch them—one by one, smile by smile. There was Carmelo, an old man whose toothless yet infinitely sweet smile and great, kind eyes overflowing with love taught me that behind a simple smile so much happiness can live, so much that it stays with you, filling your heart and mind with joy. Then Santina, a girl I became attached to at once. She loves to dance and take selfies. I adored the way she'd ask me, 'Jessica, film me.'
At one moment she embraced me, and I felt tiny—truly insignificant, as small as the mosquito she loved to imitate. Little Santina taught me that we 'normal' people have understood nothing about their lives if we look at them with sad eyes. She taught me that they are Super Heroes because they manage to laugh, to joke, to play despite everything.
I watched all of them, one by one. Paolo, Umberto, Desirée, Angela, and all the others—each with different gifts—they opened my eyes. They taught me that happiness is right here, within reach, even closer. To find it, we'd only need to see everything with the eyes of the heart, instead of remaining, as we always do, so superficial and indifferent to others and their suffering. I watched the volunteers and the families of these young people too, and I thought: they are Super Heroes as well. Who knows how much suffering, how many tears, hide behind those beautiful smiles full of kindness.
As I watched them all, I was the one who felt 'disabled.' Because in the end, the disabled ones are us 'normal' people—the ones who spend our lives complaining, slandering each other, hating, envying, betraying. We are the disabled ones who cannot love freely and unconditionally. We are the ones who have forgotten how to smile from the heart, to marvel at small things the way children do. Yes, they are the Super Heroes, and we are the disabled ones who have failed to understand what truly makes our lives special and worth living. We hunt for happiness everywhere, in everything, and never find it—never considering that happiness is contained in a single word: love. Love for our neighbor, for the weak and unfortunate, love for God and for the life He gave us. Because life remains the greatest gift we have ever received. It is up to us to make it a masterpiece.
Thank you so much, Mariagrazia and Andrea, for inviting me to have this experience!"
This is what I call God's gifts—unexpected presents that flood you with joy and hope, that restore your vitality and say to you: "Keep going. You are on the right path."
We must trust that we are never left alone. We must surrender ourselves to Him, to His will.
Carlo Gazzano, 2016
Thirty Years in Cyprus
I was very happy to take part in the celebrations marking thirty years since the birth of the Cyprus community, though I would have liked to visit other places besides Larnaka, where we stayed, and the Orthodox monastery of Kikkos.
I could hardly believe how so many people from different countries—Lebanon, Syria, Greece, France, Italy—could understand one another despite speaking different languages. What united them was not only membership in their various Faith and Light communities, but also a shared faith.
I sensed the action of the Holy Spirit, who blows where He wishes and has the power to unite and blend differences so that they might together form the body of Christ.
To reject this truth is to abandon hope of overcoming the barriers that divide so many peoples—barriers that cause not only hatred but wars and destruction, as we see in Syria and Lebanon.
True to the Gospel message, we must strive to accept those who do not share our perspective, listening to them and helping them discover the truths contained in the holy Gospel.
The path is very difficult to walk. But with the help of the Holy Spirit who guides us, even what seems impossible can one day be realized.
Flavia Castoldi, 2016