Anna is forty years old. She has motor and intellectual difficulties and a fairly serious visual impairment. For the past few months she has worked in a sheltered workshop and lives in a small community of the Ark. She is the fourth of seven children and has always been fully integrated into her family.
Maria is my goddaughter. She's ten years old. Her parents asked me to be her godmother before she was born, and I wanted it too. That means so much to me. Now I often have Maria stay at my house, and we get along beautifully. I've taken her on vacation with me. I'm a bit like a real mother to her.
The baptism happened in August. I made the sign of the cross on her forehead and held the paschal candle. They poured water over her head and Maria cried. I took her in my arms. It was her entry into God's family. Her welcome. The bells rang out to tell everyone the news. We signed the register and took photographs of the whole family. There was a family lunch with pink sugared almonds and champagne. The family celebrated, and so did her godmother.
There's nothing to worry about. Being a godmother means walking alongside the child, being available, helping her. That matters forever. I wish I could do more for her because she lost her godfather, but fortunately there were two godmothers at the baptism—Valeria and me. Sometimes I think of her and pray.
- Anna, 1992 - from O. et L. no. 97