Jean Vanier, director of a residential community and sheltered workshop, writes this letter to two parents about a specific case. Yet for the clarity and honesty of his judgment, and for the respect and love he shows toward the disabled person in question, his words can illuminate how we look at our own children. His view certainly runs counter to current ideology—the demand to "integrate at all costs." With language that is both strong and tender, he helps us clarify our thinking, our dreams, our fears as we make choices for our children's future. He brings into focus a priority we all share: "that they be happy and full of life."
Dear Mr. and Mrs.,
your son's fifteen-day stay in our community has come to an end, and I write to you now with joy in my heart.
I must tell you: we have grown very fond of him. With his special charm, he won the hearts of everyone here. Perhaps it was that disarming smile of his, even when he did something foolish? Or the joy that lights up his face on certain occasions? His utter simplicity? I cannot say for certain. But we have been enchanted by the goodness in his heart. From another angle, if we consider his work and his output, the plain results are modest. Or rather, if we measure his work against his actual capacities, Renato's performance is entirely satisfactory—but his capacities are very limited. His handicap will never allow him to do work the way others do.
I know this will cause you pain. You held—or held onto—such a great hope of seeing him "integrate into society," be "like everyone else," as happened with his brothers and sisters.
But I do not believe this is possible. In our paper-bag workshop, he proved reasonably skilled, yet his output will never reach what is normally demanded in a factory or commercial workshop.
On the other hand, his good humor and his cheerfulness have enriched us all. After his first week in the paper workshop, he tried his hand at our mosaic studio. There too he was quite slow—especially since mosaic is a craft requiring long training—but he showed an extraordinary sense of color and harmony, far above most of the students I know. Yes, I truly believe Renato will find his place among us and will develop in every dimension of his person, at his own pace.
We cannot predict the future in all its details. But since you have asked for my opinion, I will tell you: your son will likely need to remain always in a sheltered environment.
Yet in the end, what matters—for you, for us here, and above all for Renato himself—is that he be happy and full of life. Let us not lock ourselves into a fixed idea: "He must be integrated, autonomous, able to work like everyone else." That is not what matters. What matters is something else entirely: his happiness. In this community he is content as if he were at home with you. In our sheltered setting, the work he does at his own rhythm makes him happy. It is clear that we will do everything possible to help him reach the independence of which he is capable (I am certain he can make much more progress), and to arrive, in his own way, at something close to a working life.
Renato's calling is to be happy and to express himself—but in a way different from his brothers and sisters. They are efficient and "able." In terms of intellect and work output, Renato is certainly below them. But is he below them in matters of the heart? I hesitate to speak of his siblings, for I do not know them; yet I can assure you that he possesses greater qualities of heart than many people deemed "normal." His gentleness, his generosity (his cigarette packets empty with astonishing speed, given away to friends), his joy in friendship, his simplicity, his purity—these are rays of sunshine not only for his companions but for our educators and staff. I feel compelled to congratulate you. You have raised him beautifully. If one judges him by work output and productivity, he will always fall short (even if by some miracle he were to become "integrated"). But if one considers him by the deep values of the heart, he stands far above the average person. This is plainly his calling on earth: to be that element of peace which, through gentleness, delicacy, and simplicity, draws people together and creates an atmosphere of unity.
I assure you that you can be proud of him.
Do not measure him against the values that society exalts or what people say. Instead, observe him for who he is, in relationship to God and the eternal values of love.
Yes, Renato has his own particular destiny. He is a person in the full meaning of the word. For all of us, and especially for God, he is a unique person of great importance. We must therefore "listen" to who he is, recognize his deepest needs, and help him meet them by offering him the living environment he needs. Neither you nor we should try to shape or mold him according to some preconceived plan, imitating—and doing it poorly—the so-called "normal" person. Your Renato must LIVE. LIFE is something personal, and above all, something inward.
When we have a place available at our Center, we will take him. But you know how long our waiting list is. Have faith nonetheless! In any case, if we cannot welcome him permanently within a year, we will try to host him for another two-week stay.
My warmest regards.
- Jean Vanier (Ombre e Luci, no. 3), 1993
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