My Son Will Leave Home Too
Dear friends,
I received the magazine and, as always, read it with pleasure. One article in particular caught my attention: "Let Him Go Out Into the World." It took me back to when my son was about eight years old and went out of the house without me for the first time. I was filled with worry: Would they look after him the way I do? Would they care for him as well as I could? For him it was simpler. The moment I handed him over to two young people taking him to a Faith and Light camp, he trusted them completely. He gave them big smiles. At camp, when they dressed him, maybe his shoes went on backward, but in exchange he was getting what he wanted: joy, happiness, singing, and running through the mountains. Everything that young friends full of life and eager to be with him could give him. That was the beginning. Now, twenty years have passed, and the longing has only grown stronger. Despite his many physical and intellectual difficulties, my son wants something different from what we offer him at home. This makes me think deeply. His brothers left home at some point in their lives. Why not him? Why force it to happen the most painful way—when we leave him? Why not help him become independent, to have a life that is as emotionally and practically autonomous as possible? If I truly love my son, I must help him go. And if that day comes, I must remember that he is living his own life, his own story. That will make me immensely happy, even from a distance. I embrace you as always.
Rita Ozzimo
Where Is the School?
I don't remember who it was, but ten years ago someone gave me a subscription to your magazine. For some time now I've wanted to write and tell you how much I admire this journal—so valuable, so serious, so peaceful.
Every time I receive it and read it (and I do read every bit!), I'm struck by the love you show these young people, and especially by the dignity you always give them.
It does me so much good. It lifts me up.
I'm an elementary school special-needs teacher. I love my work deeply; I think it's the most beautiful work in the world.
For thirty-three years I've followed these children: I've seen everything, taught in special classrooms, had wonderful experiences, lived through very difficult situations—but always with positive outcomes. All these years, I've never lost my love for these children or the energy it takes each day to be with them in a joyful and constructive way. Your magazine has helped me greatly, especially in strengthening my conviction that even in the most seriously disabled child—truly the most serious cases—there is not only Christ but also a dignity that we, who work with them daily, must help others recognize.
Yet I've asked myself many times: why does your magazine almost completely lack input from schools and special-needs teachers? Is the school still cut off from reality? Or do you have such a low view of what schools can do?
I greet you with affection, though I don't know you personally. I renew my respect for your work and thank you for your magazine, which I try to share with others. It's not easy, precisely because of its Christian foundation. I like that very much because I share this position, but of course not everyone does. And sadly, many priests too are deaf to the issue of disability.
Paola Fochcrini
Thank you deeply for your kind words about Ombre e Luci and, above all, for urging us to focus on the integration of disabled people in schools. This is a vital topic, and for some time we have been seeking committed, knowledgeable people like yourself. May we count on your contribution?
We hope that the Christian perspective—which reflects the identity of this magazine—will not prevent open collaboration with all who care about the quality of life for disabled people.
My Beautiful Experience
My name is Andrea. I had a positive experience that I want to share with you. I promise to be honest and calm, and I'm writing what I truly felt—not just for myself, but for others too. I spent two really wonderful days. I met kind people full of spirit.
We were all united in dialogue. We had beautiful and meaningful meetings!
The gathering was called "Forgiveness—Gesture—Community." Don Lino said words that touched my heart deeply. It was truly meaningful. In my own small way, I did something really big—not just for myself, but for others. Even the smallest of our brothers can show joy at what they receive! I will never forget this experience with friends and brothers. Friendship and forgiveness are two fundamental things. We must accept each other for who we are, without deception or tricks. Without friendship we cannot walk together. We must strengthen it and hold it dear—both on our part and for those who don't yet know what it means. We all have faults, some more than others, but I don't focus on these things (though some people do). We are brothers and sisters, and we must help each other toward a better future. Even when people struggle to express certain things, in their own small way they manage to make even the weakest among us strong through their daily struggles. I'll end my thoughts by saying to all those who don't yet believe: take heart. There is always someone who will listen to you gladly. And friendship offers everyone the human support we need to walk together and continue the path that God has taught us.
Andrea Zoroaster
Something We Need to Check
Dear friends,
I want to confirm that I can help with subscriptions if needed.
I follow your work with affection and gratitude, confident that it brings new hope and builds bonds of brotherhood, helping to form a new culture.
I feel deeply moved by it. Above all, when I see photos of friends, young people, and parents I shared those early Faith and Light years with, my joy resurfaces and my ideals grow clearer.
I think it would be important to check with the leaders of Faith and Light communities to see whether the magazine is being read and whether articles are being shared or discussed together during their gatherings. I know the magazine isn't aimed only at these communities, but I think this check is worth making.
Lucetta