Friends at Faith and Light
A Faith and Light group has three kinds of members: young people with intellectual disabilities, their parents or relatives, and friends. To avoid repeating unpleasant labels and to show that we act from genuine friendship rather than pity, we use three words that normally mean something slightly different in everyday life.
Young people. Often they aren't young anymore. Many are twenty or older. They are adults, yet the disability keeps them children for a long time.
Parents. We don't mean everyone with children, but only those with disabled children.
Friends. The young people who come to help or to befriend us. They walk with us on life's pilgrimage. Normally they are called "volunteers."
Friend
Whom will you give your friendship to? The young people? The parents? The other friends? A young volunteer often enters Faith and Light meaning to befriend one of the young people, only to discover weeks later that he or she has become friends with the young person's parents—a family friend, really, integrated into the whole household. Over time, beautiful bonds have grown between volunteers and parents, marked by mutual respect and affection. We shouldn't underestimate the solidarity that can develop among the friends themselves. These different aspects of friendship are explored from time to time, to help us avoid the many pitfalls. But sometimes we hurt—unintentionally—the very people who have trusted us.
Friendship with a young person
The nature of the friendship between volunteer and young person depends on the severity of the disability. In some cases, when the young person has multiple, profound disabilities, what the friend is offering is not exactly friendship—it is care. This care is offered with affection, and the deeper friendship is felt toward the parents, who in turn grow very attached to the young person who has shown such devotion to their beloved child.
When the young person is less severely disabled and has some independence, the relationship between them and the friend begins to look like genuine friendship.
In any case, the young person has probably never had a real friend. To him or her, you are a hero. They love you and will love you forever. They won't care if your clothes are designer or not. They won't care if you're beautiful or plain. They don't know if you're educated—and how could they? They don't know, or if they do, they don't care, whether you're the child of a prince or a peasant. They won't judge you by the standards the "normal" world uses to judge you.
They will love you with a pure heart, for who you are—your FRIEND.
When you understand this, you will feel humble, perhaps inadequate. But don't worry. Jesus will judge you the same way, and love you the same way. This kind of friendship isn't friendship, in my view—it's love. Christian love. And without Jesus, you won't manage it.
What happens when the friend leaves?
Sooner or later the day comes when the friend no longer has time for the young person. Studies grow demanding. Sometimes they work and study at the same time. They have to think about their future. They fall in love, and their partner may not want to be part of Faith and Light. They marry, start a family, and what was once a close relationship with the young person and parents becomes only a pleasant memory. But what about the young person?
Sometimes the reason for leaving is different. A new family with a struggling son or daughter has joined the group. The family is devastated, desperate for support. The friend shifts to the new family, thinking he or she can be more helpful. Perhaps the "first family" had begun to feel like a burden, and the volunteer prefers the change. It's hard to criticize the friend. He or she might take offense. We don't want to lose them. After all, they're a good friend, loyal for years, generous—but they've left broken hearts behind.
If no one can explain to this friend what they've done, the pattern will probably repeat with the new family. Whatever the reason for leaving, can you explain to the young person why you don't care for them anymore? I don't think they'll ever understand. And why should they? It's the friend who should have thought about all this before forming the relationship.
With some common sense, you can spare the young person the feeling of abandonment. Let's be careful about exclusive bonds between one friend and one young person. Never give them the idea that they own you.
It's better when friends work in pairs: two volunteers following two or three young people, rotating with each other. That way each young person has two friends instead of one and knows they aren't the only young person who matters to those friends. When one of the pair must leave, the other can try to stay until another friend joins. Over time, the young person will learn to care for several friends, not just one. Perhaps one day they'll feel like a friend to the whole group.
- Olga Burrows Gammarelli
Friendship among friends
We often take it for granted that the volunteers will get along with each other. They're normal young people. They have no problems (apparently). They joined with the same motivation (or did they?). In some groups the volunteers form a real bond. Often they joined together, maybe even when the group was being founded. They know each other well. Sometimes they see each other outside Faith and Light. They work well as a team. They divide tasks. They're a unit. It's very beautiful.
What happens when a new volunteer joins? Sometimes they fit in right away, without much trouble. But sometimes they feel like an outsider—inexperienced, unsure how to move, above all excluded from the camaraderie of the others. If no one helps them, they'll be disappointed. They leave, and no one ever knows why. Or, as someone once told me, the volunteer moves to another group, where they're welcomed with open arms.
In some groups there is no such bond. The volunteers are different ages, joined at different times, each doing their own thing, giving a lot or a little according to their ability. It's not ideal. It takes a good coordinator—maybe a priest, someone who can explore the situation with them and help them grow.
It was a celebration, not a funeral
The church was packed: our Faith and Light communities, young people and friends, relatives and acquaintances, schoolmates, teachers, professors, conscientious objectors who had worked with Chicco at the various places he attended. We gathered around mom Paola, dad Giovanni, his brothers Stefano and Marco, his grandmother.
We sang the songs you loved, Chicco; you sang them with us, smiling, clapping your hands, dancing. We weren't imagining it: through our tears, voices breaking with emotion, we saw you before us, laughing, leading the songs, jumping for joy. You weren't suffering anymore. Your body, ravaged by pain and medicine, lay in the coffin. Your spirit was free and joyful. Around you rose prayers and joyful songs. It felt like a celebration.
We asked your friend Jesus to welcome you into the green pastures of Paradise, among the saints and angels, where now you keep watch and pray for each of us.
It's easy for us to see you in the white poncho, a sign of resurrection, that you wore in Lourdes at Easter 1991. To see you with your arms spread wide, in the center of the altar, smiling, leading our songs.
You came to me in a dream. You were smiling as you always did when you met a friend. You called me by name. You said: "Now I'm free. I'm happy. I have no more pain. Jesus is beautiful. Faith and Light is beautiful. Mom knows I'm well. O.K., O.K.
You teach us to love and to love one another. Without pretense, without hypocrisy. You invite us to express ourselves in joy, in simplicity. Thank you, Chicco, our great friend.
- Your friend "Guia" (Monopoli)
To Silvana
I'm one of your subscribers, and I felt moved to write because in your last issue you asked: "Send us photos full of meaning." So I thought I'd send you one—a photo of Silvana, a young woman with Down syndrome, who passed away on December 20, 1994. For me, this photo of Silvana has real meaning: the gesture through which she expresses herself. Alleluia, praise to the Lord, a song to life, happy and content. It makes me think of a photograph you published on your back cover: there was a photo of a little girl in her mother's arms. "Why are they looking at us, mom?" "Because we are beautiful!" Well, I would add—not only because they are beautiful, but because they are simple and joyful, with all their limits, and this is true at every age.
- Marina Botton (Conselvé - PD)