...And still slowly
time passes and mercifully soothes
that great sorrow that never ends.
Alone and lost in this great house,
with brushstrokes of melancholy and hope,
stealing color from a rose,
slowly I paint my room!
Alone and lost. That was my situation and my feeling three years ago, when I had recently lost my father too (my mother had died ten years before), and when I had just discovered Fede e Luce.
I was left alone. But having just met Fede e Luce, when Jesus—poor among the poor—entered my life through the poverty of our little ones and the suffering of their parents, I began to paint "my room" (a part of my heart) rose-colored.
That room, empty now for so long, that silent room, which perhaps was tired of feeling useless... it rebelled, asking for voices, laughter, love
That room, empty now for so long, that silent room, which perhaps was tired of feeling useless... it rebelled, asking for voices, laughter, loveTo step out of my melancholy, my suffering, my loneliness; to discover in others the same need to love and be loved; the humility of drawing near and being drawn near to; this is the great miracle that God's love has worked in my life. God, who had allowed my suffering, then gave me a greater joy: so many little friends, who love me and whom I love, and with whom, slowly, day after day, my whole house was being painted rose-colored.
Today I am no longer alone: today my heart and my home become one; my suffering has opened my heart wide; my loneliness has opened my door.
It all started last year, when we decided to prepare little crafts for Christmas together with the young people.
The question arose: where, at whose house? I thought of the room that had belonged to my parents, that room empty now for so long, that silent room, that room perhaps tired of feeling useless. I oddly imagined that room rebelling, asking for voices, laughter, and love. It was decided: from evening to morning, that room transformed itself into the Fede e Luce "workshop." Another brushstroke of rose had been added!
Not everything was easy. There were moments when I thought the house would collapse; moments when doors slammed and chairs flew; moments when I had to calm the neighbor downstairs; moments when my peace vanished like snow in the sun and dust settled everywhere—moments of great weariness and despair when I asked myself: why am I doing this?
And the answer always came: it came in Giuliana's little cries as she played hide-and-seek; in the chair Gianfranco sent flying; in the rosary Mariolino recited before the photo of my dead and in his compassion: "Poor Luisa, so alone, so alone!"
And my heart answers him: "No, Mariolino. As long as God's compassion and love reach us through you, there is no more loneliness!"
by Luisa Spada, 1986
