Life, Faith and Light No. 5

How We Changed Through Faith and Light

I woke this morning weighted down by a terrible sadness. I felt a hundred years old. The thought of facing the day ahead, with all its burdens, seemed like more than I could bear. I couldn't even find the will to get my daughter ready for the center she attends. Every painful memory of my life kept rushing back, one after another. I was genuinely suffering. Finally, when my daughter left with her father and sister for the city, I allowed myself some rest and quiet reflection. I fought back those dark thoughts by forcing myself to remember better times. And among all those memories, I lingered on my first steps into Faith and Light.

There Was a Locked Door

That first step, that first encounter, was preceded by something like trauma. For us—my husband felt it too—it took enormous courage to step away from our daily routine. It was gray, yes, but it was comfortable. It didn't ask anything of us. We had enough on our minds already. We couldn't see how sharing our problems with others, or listening to theirs, could possibly help. We didn't believe we could become part of a group bound together only by our daughter's condition. We didn't think these people could give us peace, or joy in living, or the strength to accept our situation with a light heart—we whose hearts were heavy with sorrow. There was a locked door we didn't know how to open on our own. And yet that is exactly what happened. Gradually we learned to walk alongside our daughter, to understand her, to accept her, to love her in a new way. Not as a helpless creature depending on us, but as a person who had far more to give us than a well-spoken word or a smile, dear as those were. She had a heart that loved, that wanted love. Most of all, she taught us how to love. We accepted her condition, her limitations. We drew closer to where she was. If I said all our worries disappeared, I would be lying. Daily life is still hard. But we live it with greater peace. We know how much more fulfilling it is to live with our daughter. We no longer feel isolated, because there are people who accept us for who we are, for the little we can give. Faith and Light has become my strength every day, even in moments of loneliness and bitterness like this morning.

I Am No Longer the Negative Thing

It wasn't just a change in how we relate to our daughter. It was something bigger: a flowering of love toward others. I am no longer the negative center around which only tragedy and misfortune orbit. I am a grain of sand among many others like me, and God has turned his merciful gaze upon us. Through Faith and Light, he comforts me. He comforts us all. And when we gather for a celebration at the cottage, I know our singing, our voices, our joy are a prayer and a thanksgiving to God for all he gives us. I am certain that our prayer, the Mass we hear together, is for the One who guides us through this troubled earthly life the greatest act of faith, the deepest and most wonderful "Yes" to his call. A Mother

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CUNEO

First Communion

Sunday, June 12. It is truly a great celebration for the two Faith and Light groups in Cuneo. When Sonia, Rosalba, Roberto, Massimo, Fulvio, Elisabetta, Diego, Davide, and Andrea are called forward one by one at 5 p.m. in the parish church of San Giovanni Bosco—when they take their places in the front pew—when the priest, before the consecration, invites them and their parents to step forward to the altar, almost to concelebrate with their innocence the coming of the Lord who will enter their hearts, few can hold back their emotion. Tears of joy stream down faces as the hymns continue. The church is nearly full. Many people came—some out of simple curiosity—to "see" the first communions of children who, despite their difficulties, have the same right as any others to receive Jesus. This moment was made possible by the sensitivity of the parish and by those parents who, embracing the message of Jesus transmitted through their children, found the courage to overcome their own fears. They wanted people to understand that their child matters, that despite his difficulties, he is able to teach us the ways of the Lord. During the preparation of the parents, one of them said: "Perhaps if I had not had a child like mine, I never would have understood the great gift of the Eucharist." In his homily, the priest said: "The faith of these young people and their parents should make us think about how lightly we approach our own communions. Let us pray that we never receive Communion out of mere habit." M.G.