The voice of a volunteer

 

This is the story of a volunteer from the Casa SantAngela Tailoring Laboratory. As in the case of the last story, it is based on real elements but which has revisited names and faces. It will give you another perspective on the spirit of solidarity that animates Tilla Baby Box.x.

Enjoy the reading!

 

I grew up in a large and close-knit family where we always helped each other.
At our home, anyone was welcome and everyone was busy: those who set the table, those who washed the dishes, those who helped their parents or grandparents during the harvest. Everyone knew exactly what to do and there was no time to laze..
Even when the days were hard, tiring, cold, no one stopped to complain. My grandmother's gaze kept everyone under control. His affection was not made of hugs or caresses, it was hot soups after a hard day or a glass of red wine to chase away the thoughts.
Hugs and caresses came only later, growing up. They came when life began to make itself felt with its harder side by testing us all. She has transformed: from a general ready to put everyone in line, her features have softened and her orders have become more words of comfort and reflection. Do not give to receive, but give to do good.”.


I think of her every night I leave the tailoring workshop. I think if he could he would be with us to keep us company, to chat, to teach girls how to embroider or baste backpacks. I think of her every time a new guest arrives and meet her fearful gaze. I know that when they see me they are all afraid of me but it is this myopia that makes me squint and look like a general.
I actually welcome them all as if they were part of my family because I can only imagine what they are experiencing or what they have experienced. I put needle and thread in their hands to relieve their pain, to make them playful and feel at home, well liked. If they focus on their hands and learning new things their head stays there and doesn't wander around looking for thoughts or memories to forget.

Sometimes the girls with whom there is more confidence joke because they are fussy: if their edge is reversed, it comes undone and starts again. But it's like in life: mistakes are made but the second possibility, if it exists, must be exploited to the full. Always.e.

I never ask to tell me how they got to the laboratory because they are too delicate matters but after a few days they come to me and with any excuse they confide. I know that that moment is the first stage of a long journey that will help them restart with a new life and it excites me to know that I am there with them in these moments.

But it's not all that simple. There are also those who remain on their own and are suspicious, those who spend their time in the laboratory with their shoulders down and the desire to leave as soon as possible. They are girls and mothers whose pain is so strong that if they could scream it we would all go deaf. They are the ones who most need me and the other volunteers. At first I didn't know what to do but then I realized: with them you don't need words, just facts. No caresses are needed, soup is needed.a.
Trust is built a little step a day, leaving the spool of their favorite color on the sewing machine, always involving them and in any case without letting their guard down. Just like my grandmother did with us. And it is thanks to my grandmother that I am now here. Thanks to his teachings, to his giving to do good.

I am a bit worried when I walk down the street and see people behaving as if everything is their due, without stopping to think that they live in a community made up of people with their needs and frailties. How can you ignore the importance of the community, of the social, of helping those who have less than us It will be that I grew up always taking care of people and I find it incomprehensible that others do not do the same.to.

At my age, I admit that it is not easy to reconcile children, grandchildren and ailments with this laboratory. I participate because I know I am doing good to others, but at the same time it is a way to do good to myself too. Keeping my hands busy helps me to feel useful and like others, the company I find at the laboratory is a good antidote for the days when I would still like to have my beloved Pietro to shake my hand.

I come to the laboratory because when I close the door behind me I smile thinking of the face of grandmother Amalia who would tell me to be more severe but who, if she could, would have made this laboratory an even bigger family.

 

 

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