Your Voice Matters
Each issue of Ombre e Luci gives us space in our letters section, Dialogo Aperto, to exchange ideas about our reflections, hopes, and work. Through these pages, readers come to know one another and feel more connected.
That's why we want to share some results from a survey we conducted among our readers. We needed to know what they thought of the magazine, how we could improve it, what topics mattered most, and how to shape our work according to what you told us.
We received many letters—thoughtful, warm, and encouraging. We learned that Ombre e Luci meant something profound to many people: a point of solidarity, a push toward personal and spiritual growth, and a valuable source of information and practical guidance. It was a spur to take action and help more people who are hurting—as one social worker wrote. Much of this came from the personal testimonies and experiences we published, the feature articles, and the letters section. "I thought our problems were only ours," one mother wrote. Another said: "I thought I was the only one suffering."
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We asked readers whether Ombre e Luci had been useful to them, and if so, when.
One father answered: "When I felt low about the future of my son, about how to raise him and at other times. Reading Ombre e Luci showed me I wasn't alone as a parent facing these struggles. I realized I could improve my relationship with my son and with myself." Another father wrote: "In moments of sadness and depression, but also joy at seeing the good being done for these little ones." A teacher: "I taught a class of disabled teenagers at a middle school for three months, and reading some of your articles helped me understand them better and teach in a way that respected them—without pushing, but honoring their pace. Thank you." Another teacher: "Ombre e Luci is always a great help to me. Reading about what parents of disabled teenagers face firsthand, seeing their example of Christianity in action, learning about people helping these families in every way—it strengthens me to accept my own suffering." A nun: "Our whole community has received practical guidance on how to support and help people with various physical and mental disabilities and their families who came to us asking for spiritual help."
Parents, volunteers, and professionals especially valued and highlighted the magazine's information function. One woman wrote: "You introduced me to family centers, so now with other parents of disabled children we're thinking we can start something similar for our teenagers—something that will be essential when they're alone." A student: "It's helped me understand issues related to my work with disabled people and with caregivers, and it's given me information about community centers and group living options." A homemaker: "I've learned so much about life I never would have known without reading what you publish." Another woman thanked us for "information about disability and education that I can share with friends and neighbors, and reflections for Faith and Light groups (articles for individual and group reading)."
After Six Years, We Want You to Know Who We Are
Many people collaborate with Ombre e Luci: parents of children with disabilities, friends of all ages, some professionals, educators, priests, catechists...
The magazine's purpose is clear: the disabled person stands at its center. We give them voice when we can, or we speak on their behalf.
Then there are the editorial and administrative staff, each with their specific responsibilities (which aren't always so precise).
In alphabetical order:
Mariangela Bertolini: parent of a disabled child; wife and mother of three; former high school literature teacher; founder of Faith and Light in Italy:
— searches for and selects articles
— maintains contact with potential contributors
— answers letters and requests that arrive at the office
— writes the magazine's editorials
— manages the publication's accounting.
Laura Ceccaroni: friend; nutritionist by profession; joined the staff a few months ago:
— manages the file system
— types letters and addresses
— handles distribution.
Marco Colangione: a young man with a diploma in graphic design; person with physical disability:
— types file cards
— writes addresses for renewal notices.
Cristina di Girardi: a young woman with a diploma in teaching and stenography:
— manages subscriptions and prepares mailing labels
— recently started data entry on the computer.
Natalia Livi: friend; diploma in social work; mother of four:
— part of the editorial team: primarily reviews and presents books
— organizes and reads the disability journals we receive (about thirty)
— proofreads
— works on the computer with Cristina.
Nicole Schultes: friend; diploma in occupational therapy; founder of Faith and Light in Italy; mother of two:
— part of the editorial team: visits schools, centers, and disability initiatives and presents them in the magazine when appropriate
— answers questions (by phone or letter) about education and resources (schools, centers, workshops...)
— oversees magazine distribution (though she's not responsible for how long it takes to reach you!)
— closely follows the production of each issue (finds photographs, chooses titles and colors with Sergio...)
Sergio Sciascia: friend; married with two children:
— reviews articles
— handles layout and all production stages of the magazine. In short, he takes text and photos and makes them into a magazine
— visits and presents centers and disability initiatives with Nicole
— holds legal responsibility for the publication.
Mirella Stefani: a young woman; person with mild disability:
— maintains order and cleanliness at the office
— prepares tea and coffee for breaks
— handwrites addresses, stuffs envelopes, stamps, seals
— collects mail and answers the phone
— handles public relations with visitors
— her presence is tremendous psychological support for us all.
Where We Work
The Ombre e Luci office is in a small apartment at Via Bessarione 30 in Rome. It was the porter's apartment years ago. The building's residents gave it to us for free (close relatives of Francesco Gammarelli, father of a severely disabled daughter).
The office is open three times a week: Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday.
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The apartment has two rooms. One holds the editorial office with filing systems, books, journals, file cabinets, secretarial work, and accounting.
The other has the computer, typewriters, archives, and a photocopier.
How We Work
And then there's us—working, talking, debating, drinking coffee, answering the phone, filing names, writing letters and addresses, hunting for information, talking again, working, rushing around...
The atmosphere is different from other offices: partly because it's always damp and cold; partly because we work like friends, not like employees. Half our time goes to urgent, difficult cases. We discuss them together, searching for answers we often can't find. We talk about solutions that don't exist. We feel "compassion" in the true sense—suffering with people who come to us for help.
This immersion in difficult and painful situations makes us forget our own small worries. Rarely do we talk about ourselves or our concerns, because they seem so small beside what comes through the door at Ombre e Luci.
Maybe that's why the mood stays fairly serene among us, nourished also by Marco and Mirella, who constantly remind us—without saying a word—why we're here.
The other half of our work keeps the office running. We know we're doing serious, important work. But because of what I just described, the administrative side feels secondary. Addresses written a little crooked, because Marco and Mirella wrote them. File cards a little scrawled. The computer that breaks down. The copier jamming. Information filed haphazardly. Thirty journals stacking up waiting to be read. Yellow scraps of paper scattered across mismatched tables, reminders of things to do. Complaints about late issues. These seem so unimportant when compared to the eighty-year-old mother who calls from Sicily saying she and her forty-year-old son can't manage anymore: "Can you find him a place? I've decided to place him somewhere."
We exchange a glance. We're here for her. For all the people who can find some help through Ombre e Luci—if nothing else, the chance to speak openly with someone who can understand and, at the very least, listen.
- The Editorial Team, 1990