From Rome — A Mother
Fede e Luce, and I would add: Hope and charity. Charity not in the sense of pity, but in the giving to us and to our children of so much love and friendship, which are themselves the hope of our tomorrow. A hope that will surely become certainty with God's help, and then we will have even more of that Christian faith in us, and we will see that light which will brighten our faces and our souls, at peace and at rest, because we know we are no longer castaways in a vast sea, but upheld and comforted by our willing friends who have their feet firmly on the ground.
From Milan — Laura de Rino
I'm immersed in the world of today's "young people." I live firsthand the contradictions, the struggles, the desperate search for meaning, the disappointments of this age. Yet I've agreed to help organize a Fede e Luce group here in Milan, modeled on yours throughout Italy.
I've tried to awaken my peers to the problem of integrating handicapped people into society and to recruit them to our movement. It's not easy to speak to my friends about love, fraternal spirit, community life—all the things Fede e Luce seeks to embody. They're all too used to dismissing the Church and religion, meetings and "charitable works" as tired values, stripped of all meaning.
It's not easy to speak of handicapped people without falling into rhetoric and clichés. It's hard to explain that Fede e Luce is simply an experience of "real" life, of human life, life made up of the sorrows and joys we all know.
It's not easy to prove that Fede e Luce embodies, at least for me, that ideal of simple and beautiful living—the same life that could flourish in our society if we eliminated all those unnecessary, complicated structures that define it now.
So we gave up trying to explain Fede e Luce in words. Instead, we invited a group of young people already active in our parish to come play guitar at one of our festivals. They came. I think they understood on their own. Some gave us their names and addresses—a promise of future commitment.
I've begun to think that maybe, after all, it's not so difficult to explain.
From Milan — L. Raffaghello
The world is full of suffering people, and few are those who spare a glance or a thought for them, forgetting that in their hearts there lives love, a longing for friendship and affection. In a family with a sick child, resignation doesn't always come easily—especially when society pushes them away and rejects them. Offer a smile, offer friendship, even for just a moment, to those who so desperately desire it.
The world becomes beautiful for whoever sincerely gives a smile and friendship to brothers and sisters who suffer; do the same. Whoever rejects one of these suffering people rejects a part of themselves. Whoever offers a smile to the handicapped, even if they don't rejoice at once, will see a new light in their face and will discover contentment in themselves.
We young people live joyfully through each day, but perhaps with your great hunger for life you don't stop to think about certain people who have a life like yours but are not like you, because they are ill and so you, young person, reject them. But perhaps you don't know that we are all equal. Do you walk with your head down? Do you eat with your feet? You are made of flesh and bone just like that person who passes by and is cast out. So what does it cost you to give an hour of happiness to these people?
From Rome — Arturo Faccini
Dear friends,
I write this with the enthusiasm and joy that filled me the day after the gathering that took place Sunday the 12th at the "Casetta Fede e Luce," put at our disposal by the sisters of the Nazareth Institute on via Cola di Rienzo.
I am deeply grateful for what you have done, what you do, and what I hope you will do in the future for so many souls living in suffering—suffering that sadly cannot be erased except through God's touch. We felt the weight of that suffering on Sunday, and you knew how to ease it, delighting us with songs, a little skit, and a small ballet under the watchful eye of our ever-present Mariangela. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the heart, then, from these somewhat deformed hands of mine, pierced eight times in my childhood. Thank you in my own name and on behalf of all those who suffer even more heavily, unable to write these words of gratitude. I end by wishing you—and this holds for the coming Christmas and the year about to begin—always worthy desires that you may have in this vast fair of wishes. To you and your loved ones, a fraternal embrace.
Vs. Arturo Faccini
PS. My address and phone number are: via ###### ####### #####, ##########. Call me—it always brings me such joy and gives me such peace.
From Salerno — Dr. Rovigatti
The difficulties in our community at Villa Silviana prevent us from being close to you physically and from integrating, as we would wish, into a broader and more vital society. Those of us who feel the charity, the brotherhood, the love, the heartbeat of our movement, continue to live by Fede e Luce.
Our warmest wishes to all of you.
From Cuneo — A. M.
I received the newsletter "INSIEME." It grows more beautiful and engaging each time. Thank you to everyone who contributes. I find the division by topic valuable, as well as the testimonies and personal experiences. I feel we truly need this house journal that brings together the various groups and people, helping them know one another.
I have sad news to share: a girl from our group, thirteen years old, was struck by a car while crossing the street to go home. In moments, she went to heaven. At her funeral there were many friends, and to accompany her on her final journey, they gave her many flowers.
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A Poem
I Had a Dream
For you, father, with hands roughened by too much work;
For you, mother, whose hair turned gray too soon;
For you, young man, who search for a friend to accept you as you are.
I closed my eyes for a moment and knew a new world
A world where all people seemed to love one another,
where the other was a person like me, where suffering and sorrow were not erased by a magic wand
but made bearable by the love of others,
because lived together.
I opened my eyes and fell back into reality,
into everyday life;
the people were the same,
but the care was gone.
With a little good will,
with a little more openness from each of us,
one day, perhaps,
we will be able to make real
even our dreams...