Juri's Birthday
"I'm five years old..." We heard this sentence repeated over and over from early morning: Juri was finally turning five. All his friends gathered around to celebrate him, to see him laugh and joke. There are no words to describe what we felt when Juri blew out his candles, delighting in every moment and wanting to start all over again.
Perhaps—certainly—his smile, his joy, were the greatest gifts he could have given us. It's funny. Once again, it was he who gave something to us. It has always been that way, at least for me, since I met Juri. I go to him in the children's ward at Sant'Eusebio to offer what little I can, and instead I find that it is always he who makes me happy when I'm sad, who distracts me with his clever remarks from the petty worries that plague me.
By now I can say that Juri has completely taken over my everyday life. If by chance I can't go see him, I feel so sad and useless. Many times I've caught myself thanking God for putting this wonderful child in my path—someone who continuously teaches me to live more simply and more fully.
On his birthday we wanted to show him, not just with gifts but with our presence, that he has many true friends, people who love him deeply, people who think of his sweet face and simple smile even in their own sad moments. For him it was a small great party. For us it was something truly important: the discovery of a small angel.
Gabriella Saviolo - Vercelli, 1975
- See also Friends of the Children in the Gesù Bambino Ward at Sant'Eusebio, Vercelli
Why?
It's only been three months that I've been coming to Sant'Eusebio. The first few weeks I wasn't very comfortable—maybe because I didn't know anyone, and maybe because the whole setting was so new. I came three or four times a week because I had free days, because I liked the children, and so on. But after a short time the children themselves made me think: either I come here with all the joy of being young and give it to others, or I stop this activity altogether. I decided to stay and to keep coming, aware of what I was doing.
But why? Why bike or walk almost every day from Porta Torino? Because in these years of my life I feel the need to give others everything I can, and I hope I never grow tired of giving.
Before I started coming to Sant'Eusebio I didn't think that subnormal children could give so much satisfaction, so much affection. Juri, Gianni, Ambrogio, Luigi, Massimiliano, Roberto... how many names I could list!
Not only our subnormal children, but children like them all over the world—and those who are spastic too—I am convinced that they think, perhaps differently than I do; that they love, perhaps differently than I do; that they are happy, perhaps differently than I am. But they express themselves all the same. They have their own personalities. And if God created them, it means they are like us.
I'll tell you the truth: right now and forever I feel that I truly love these children. But why? Perhaps because they themselves have taught me how to love.
Cristina Baracco - Vercelli, 1975