In 1975, during the Jubilee, I took my first step into volunteer work. Twenty-five years ago now. I was fifteen, still in high school, living an ordinary life like so many girls my age. I never imagined that a Mass in Vatican would spark what became a great adventure—a light that would guide my path through all the years to come.
Through those years, as I became deeply involved in Fede e Luce, I came to understand something I had not expected: it was not the person with physical or mental weakness who needed me. I needed them. From that day forward, life has been full of change. Years passed. I became a mother of four children, with joy and beauty, but also with moments so hard I could barely bear them—until I realized what these children and their mothers had given me. Their gifts became my armor. Angelo and Chicca's profound silence. Giorgia's irony. The smiles of Gianluca and Claudio. Giulio's patience. And the strength of all their mothers. They taught me how to look ahead with courage, even when everything seemed lost.
Read also: Quelle ore mi hanno segnata
It feels like yesterday when my husband and I realized our daughter, barely two months old, had something wrong. Her face—once beautiful and symmetrical—had begun to change. Only one side was growing. The right side swelled and swelled. Within weeks, her ear had reshaped itself. Her eye could no longer open. Her whole head had grown so heavy we had to act fast.
The doctors' opinions were, strangely enough, fairly consistent. The comments from other people? They never stopped. There was material enough for a book.
But I felt removed from all of it. I believed—truly believed—that this would end, that what was happening was a message from God. A test for all of us: family, friends, anyone who had never truly faced, never truly felt with their heart, anything like this before.
Every day I took my daughter out, as mothers with other children do, with all their errands and tasks. And every day I encountered people who thought perhaps I should stay home. They had plenty of advice. Plenty of extra words.
Time passed. So much happened. My convictions proved true. The memory of my friends grew stronger in my heart. And their mothers' testimony—that has been my weapon. It stays with me, alive, every single day. In my work. In my friendships. In how I live.
- Francesca Mancini, 2001
