Welcome back to my blog. Today I want to tell you what's happened to my parish, and I'll try to answer some questions you've asked me on social media, in emails, and in person. For several years, I gave everything I had to my parish: I worked with Caritas, helped at the youth center, and did whatever needed doing. Three years ago I even helped run the summer camp—I really did it all. Then one day, our priest changed. I knew it was coming, of course. I knew priests move on after a certain time. But I never imagined how much would change.
With the first two priests—one who stayed twelve years, one who stayed three—I had a wonderful relationship. They called on me to help even though I have a disability. Both of them pushed me to be with everyone else in the parish because that's what was right. They told me I was equal to the other young people. If other teenagers served the parish, it was only fair that I did too. For them, my wheelchair wasn't a problem—if anything, it was the opposite. I even traveled with them. With the first priest we went to Guarcino (I'm terrible at geography, so I can't tell you exactly where!), and with the second I went to Parma with the other kids from our youth group. We had such a good time!
After those trips, both priests had decided to keep the youth group going—the Punto Giovani, as we called it. This was the group of young people preparing for First Communion or Confirmation who were active in parish life. The group started so we wouldn't lose touch with each other. In my neighborhood there isn't much for teenagers. There's nowhere for us to meet or share ideas. So both Don Gregorio and Don Simone decided to keep this youth center open—to give us a place to belong. But the new priest decided to shut it down, eliminating the only gathering space where kids went to do homework, talk, just be together.
Even though it hurt, I kept going to the parish as long as I could. Then one day I was told they were taking away the small room where we adults met to organize things for the neighborhood—programs for teenagers with and without disabilities alike. Just in my building there are four of us with disabilities, including me. Across the whole area there are at least five more—intellectual disabilities, physical disabilities. Our parish had partnered with another one nearby to support this work, and I say "had" because sadly this project fell apart. Eventually we just gave up. Not officially, but we accepted that in this neighborhood, even if you want to do something, it's impossible.
Here in Dragoncello we have San Cirillo and Metodio parish, and just past the bike path there's another parish (I can't remember the name now) where a lot of people with disabilities go. We had designed this plan to create a day center, or rent a small room like we'd done with the other two priests, and run activities there—something to help families too, since there's nothing here. They even took away the only supermarket in the area, the one place families without a car could go shopping. That's how bad things are here in Dragoncello.
And now the last straw: when I went to ask if I should continue my pastoral work at the parish, I was told there was no need because they'd already replaced me with someone else. When I went to ask for an explanation, the priest wouldn't see me. I couldn't defend myself or ask why. So I stopped doing pastoral work. I don't even go to Mass anymore. At least I still have Fede e Luce.