In two rooms generously provided by the Nazareth Institute, our young people and their friends gathered twice a month on Sunday afternoons. Guenda organized each day in advance, rotating through the group as space allowed—some came more often, others less frequently, depending on family circumstances. All told, about fifty of our children visited the Little House at least once, and roughly as many friends joined them. The volunteer group grew steadily from that first small band of enthusiasts.
What happens at the Little House?
Craft projects, games, and short walks in the morning while a small team prepares lunch. Then everyone eats together at tables covered in red or blue checkered plastic cloths. Another group clears up while the rest play outdoors if the weather allows—or sit in the garden singing, one person's song becoming everyone's. When something unexpected comes up, there is always Sister Anna Pantanella (affectionately known to us as "Nonna", for those who haven't met her), ready with gentle good humor for whatever request might come.
Around three in the afternoon, Louis Sankalè arrives (sometimes from the morning). The stools are arranged in a circle, and he sits on one facing a low table—just as Michel did before returning to France—and celebrates Mass for everyone. Some might find it a touch informal, but all of us recognize its authenticity.
When it's time to leave, the young people don't want to go. There's a touch of sadness, as there always is when something beautiful ends. But there's also the certainty that it will happen again soon.
This seems the right moment to say publicly to the young volunteers who bring the Little House to life—to Guenda first and foremost, but also to Francesca, Pinino, Maria Laura, Pietro, Cristiana, Ugo, and all the others (too many to name one by one)—to offer our heartfelt thanks, on behalf of our children who sometimes can only express gratitude with a shout or a gesture, and on behalf of their parents who carry that thanks silently in their hearts. Friends, will you start again in the fall?
But the truest witness to what the Little House means belongs to the young volunteers themselves. We asked them why they come. Here are their answers, in their own words.
A longtime observer of the Little House, 1977
Why I Come to the Little House
The Little House! A basement room where our Faith and Light group meets.
I come to the Little House because... well, why? It's hard to explain, because it's something deep inside me that I can't quite put into words right now.
Maybe I come to hear Mass. Maybe because I have fun. Or maybe because I'm part of a path that no one has walked before—a path that Faith and Light is creating, and no one knows where it leads.
When I think about it now, I think that's exactly why I come to the Little House. If someone asked me, "But what do you actually do there?"—I'd probably say it's the most beautiful place because that's where "love" happens. Real love. The truest, deepest love there is.
I don't know what you mean by love, but for me it's that thing I try to feel for everyone—even though I often fail.
But I'm telling you: try to love. Really.
If you can't manage it, so be it. But at least try.
Nanni
Praying While Bowling
Every day that passes is a joy for me, because I wait eagerly for "Little House Sunday" and I hope it never goes away—or comes back soon if it does.
I see it as a time of friendship and belonging. Every time, I learn a little more from the others and with them how to truly love my brothers and sisters—without worrying whether they're likable or not—and to spend a piece of my life together with them.
The Little House day is packed with activities. In the morning we do crafts or take walks, sometimes visiting museums. Around noon some of us start cooking and others set the table. We gather around and little surprises happen—someone spills a plate or glass, someone splashes water.
In the afternoon, after tidying up, we play games with songs and gestures.
Finally, to say goodbye, Louis celebrates Mass. This is a particularly beautiful moment for me, even if things get a little chaotic—bowling pins or balls flying around, or someone always needing to tell Louis something. But we shouldn't judge it by that, because everyone prays in their own way, whether that's bowling pins or something else.
Through the effort of putting together and organizing these days, I've discovered what "friendship" really means—that sometimes the smallest gesture is enough to show it.
I'd love to describe so many other moments from just one day spent together, but I find it almost impossible to put into words. Some things you really have to live through to understand.
Francesca Mancini
Questions That Don't Matter
When I first got involved with the Little House—thanks to Pinino, who told me about those unforgettable days at Alfedena—I kept my distance. I was afraid of doing it just to clear my conscience.
But the moment I got to know a few children and got deeper into what was really happening, those questions stopped making sense.
Neither I nor anyone else needed an answer to anything. We just needed to start building something together, to grow alongside each other.
Looking back on this year, I'd say I'm quite satisfied, though I'm not sure how much I've actually been able to give.
One mistake we shouldn't repeat: letting the group get too large. I think the most beautiful moments for everyone come from one-on-one connection—which becomes hard when there's confusion and too much noise.
Nothing else to add except a promise to commit myself more fully, to be more available, and a huge thank you to everyone.
Alessandro
The Little House Is a Friend
I think the Little House is a wonderful place for us to meet, to find joy together—both the young people and the volunteers—and to prepare for Mass.
But what's most important is that this place teaches us how to live a true life. And that's exactly what's happening this year, thanks to Father Louis.
The Little House is a real friend to us.
Giulio Barluzzi
Who Helps Whom?
I started coming to the Little House around October, and at first I came now and then without much thought. But soon I was coming almost every time, because I found a place where I felt at home.
I came to the Little House to be there and help others. But it didn't take long to realize that the Little House was helping me too, and that I spent those days happily with everyone else.
Then I grew attached to all the friends there, drawing closer to them with each Sunday together, filled with things to do.
The Little House has helped me, still helps me, and it binds me to the others.
A Friend
Why
I've been coming to Faith and Light for five months now. I've often wondered what keeps drawing me back to the Little House.
Maybe what I'm about to say is selfish, but I've realized I come more to receive than to give. What I mean is that all my friends at Faith and Light give me a peace I've never had before—serenity, and a real hunger to move forward in life, especially to find human connection.
I think every person, regardless of their situation, has something human to offer. For me, the Little House isn't so much about helping people reach some higher level of skill or mental maturity—I'm not capable of that anyway. It's about being able to connect with handicapped people who, as human beings, are just like me.
Cristiana
The Right Direction
At first, the reason I came to spend two Sundays a month in a couple of rooms and a garden—what we call the Little House—was simply that I had nothing else to do.
The reason I kept coming is harder to explain, but it comes down to this: I have fun here.
I think that's because of the people I meet—I got along with them right away. It's the atmosphere that formed, which is completely different from what I'm usually around. And it's the relationships I've had with the children, which have often made me happy and, I think, more at peace. Partly because it feels good to be useful, and partly because I realize that others are useful to me too.
As for how the Little House should develop, we need to make sure it doesn't turn in on itself. It should keep being a bridge between handicapped people and the wider society—working toward the day when society fully accepts them for who they are.
And I think we're on the right path.
Francesco
Math Isn't a Matter of Opinion
Why can't math be a matter of opinion?
More often than you'd think, you can prove this—or at least explain it—through lived experience. An experience that happens at a certain time and place can be understood and evaluated by people of different economic and intellectual backgrounds.
This brings different perspectives to the same situation, and the total I came up with at first turned into something different not long after.
Yet the basic numbers were the same. But as I worked through the problem, I realized the answer would be different.
I hope all this can continue.
Eleonora
And we close with a brief thought from Pinino, Daniele, and Pietro
...Obviously...
They asked us to explain why we started coming to the Little House, or what spirit moved us to take part. There's not much to say!
The idea wasn't ours (obviously!). But as soon as we heard about it, we decided (obviously!) to come.
We didn't help fix up the space (Pietro did!), but we only showed up after the hard work was done.
As for what moved us—there's nothing special to report. We felt great from the start (obviously!) and decided to keep coming.
The secret of the Little House is right there: you show up, you play, you sing, you joke together, and by the end (obviously!) everyone feels calmer and happier.
There doesn't seem to be anything else to add.