"... e questa siepe, che da tanta parte
dell'ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude"
We wish we had only a hedge, as Leopardi did, standing between us and the wonder of creation. Instead, we drive for hours away from our cities just to find nature. We build miniature farms so that schoolchildren can meet chicks, rabbits, and cows they've seen only in books or on television. We talk endlessly about saving the environment, fighting pollution, breathing clean air — yet the simple dream of living close to the earth seems further away than ever.
And yet everyone knows how powerfully nature speaks to those who suffer in isolation, shyness, intellectual disability, fear, or dependence. The gifts it offers are real.
"Lorenza was the most withdrawn student I taught. Physically and intellectually, she seemed locked away. I'd run out of ideas for reaching her. She barely reacted to anything — my attempts or her classmates'. I'd stopped trying. Then one morning she suddenly smiled and pointed toward the window. Her face showed a joy I'd never seen. On the balcony were small clay pots where we'd planted seeds weeks before. A seedling was pushing through the soil — fragile and tender, just like Lorenza.
(a teacher)
Luigi took his brother Carlo, who has Down syndrome, on an important mountain hike. Tired from the walk, they sat on a rock overlooking a magnificent view. The sun was setting. Carlo was happy, talking constantly, wanting Luigi to tell him again and again how brave he'd been — very brave, Luigi said. Then suddenly Carlo grew serious. His face fell. He cried. Luigi didn't understand. "What's wrong? You were happy a moment ago!" Carlo didn't answer. After a few minutes, he stood up, spread his arms wide, and said: "It's..., it's..., it's that I want to see the sun standing up!"
Cristina sat in her beach chair. She had never spoken or walked on her own. Her mother was tending to her younger brother, confident that Cristina would stay put. She never did anything alone. But Cristina loved water. She felt the splash of the waves and had no fear of them. She slipped from the chair and crawled toward the shore, stretched out on the wet sand, reached out her small hands, and moved forward. A man leaving the water saw her. He watched. Her mother noticed Cristina's escape and ran toward her, frightened and startled by this unusual boldness. The man, a doctor, turned to her: "Ma'am, you should teach your daughter to swim. She clearly wants to."
Patrick describes his climb to the summit of Mount Mèta, 2,000 meters high. "I know I will never forget that extraordinary, almost mad experience. I couldn't believe it was possible. For someone who doesn't walk, climbing along trails impassable for a wheelchair felt like a miracle from the start. On the steeper sections, my friends took turns every ten meters carrying my stretcher — built the day before from poles and rope. Physically, I felt like dead weight. My heart felt heavy. But now, whenever I think back to those moments, I'm flooded with joy. I see myself again in that magnificent landscape, surrounded by my faithful and determined friends, whom I will never forget."
Summer is here. Don't let laziness or fear keep your children and grandchildren from the experience of water, earth, animals, sun, and rain. Let us sing with Saint Francis: "Praised be you, my Lord, through all your creatures."
by Mariangela Bertolini, 2000