LAURETTA THE ANGEL OF CHILDREN SUFFERING.
Introduzione.
L'altro giorno mando una e-mail al mio amico Oreste Paliotti, che lavora presso il giornale di Citta' Nuova, per metterlo a conoscenza di un blog che ho aperto nella rete, dedicato ai viaggi ed alle escursioni e lui mi risponde con un invito per una serata speciale, da condividere con una donna particolare, che raccontera' delle esperienze in cui i protagonisti sono i bambini. Non common or normal children who live a normal life tremendously, with the school, games and peaceful family life, but children who are in hospital, mostly suffering from 'serious illness and sometimes irreparable.
And then Monday 'July 6 at 21, I'm in over Tor de' Conti, 15, Maritta home, friends of Orestes, behind the arc of Pantani, near 'the hole of Trajan in Rome, in an environment , which must have been a house or an architectural structure of ancient Rome (it was, among other things a nice cool them 'inside), with an audience of chairs arranged in a horseshoe, where already' sat a number of 'asked Lauretta ready to listen. It 'Lauretta, who once' sat ready per il suo intervento, vicino ad un grande pianoforte, che dava un tocco teatrale a tutto l'insieme. Una volta che la platea e' stata riempita, Oreste, l'amico dell'e-mail di cui sopra, che e' anche giornalista, induce Lauretta a raccontare la sua esperienza. Si crea subito un silenzio ed un'attenzione particolare e la donna comincia a raccontare.
Lauretta voleva fare la professoressa di filosofia ed aveva chiesto ad un prelato un aiuto per trovare una cattedra o una supplenza, ma il caso volle altrimenti. Comincio' a scrivere fiabe per bambini e fu incoraggiata a proseguire in questa attivita' ed allora addio filosofia... Dato che era brava a scrivere fiabe, si sentiva capace, ed aveva una voce molto suadente, anche a raccontarle. He then asked them to tell the children to the hospital to alleviate the suffering. But the road had to be in the ascent, 'cause the issue to the General Hospital of Rome, the oncology ward, where a number of children was in very critical conditions of health and some of these had high hopes of survival and even the evil was advanced.
Li ', Lauretta learned the joy of giving that in suffering and fortified it more and more'. He was young and had little more 'than twenty-twenty-two. But this effort was rewarded by the children themselves, who have a spirit that never gets depressed, that they always want to play, do things. as long as' you do, listen to the facts from large incessantly.
In this experience there were many joyful and sad situations he has encountered, but not 'never stop. He had his children and his new stories to write and now, after forty years of experience, has written several.
Friday, July 10, 2009
How To Make A Dog Snare
During that year he loved a lot, but has also received love, 'cause the kids have always been considered a mother, a sister or a playmate.
His stories are quite famous and also enjoy a decent run in bookstores and are signed as Laura or Lauretta Perassi.
To complete the picture of this person, following an article by my friend Oreste and finally a brief tale, but very significant.
(Paul Carlizzi)
Lauretta and innocent suffering.
05/25/2006 Oreste Paliotti
Stay in an austere senior religious, but simply pass through a door - as the Wardrobe by CS Lewis that introduces you to the fantastic world of Narnia - and enters into an environment bright, cheerful and colorful. It is the kingdom Lauretta, almost a fairy that transforms into a question mark exclamation, as in his last published story in our Fantasyland. Petite, smiling, vivacious, corresponds perfectly to these verses that a child of four years spent: Lauretta is like a little fish / day dressed in pink, blue tomorrow. / Lauretta is like a bird / flying from room to room and calls every child .... I look around like Alice in Wonderland. The room is full of stuffed animals, of angels and other angels, the pictures of his little friends. And books and books: tales, of course, but also Scripture, Doctors of the Church like Saint Augustine, philosophers such as Kierkegaard, writers and poets such as Peguy, Tagore, Saint-Exupéry ... I was born in Stresa, Lake Maggiore, but twelve years living in Rome, a city that I love very much: changing habits and environment was very challenging for me as a writer. In fact, in the first year here in the capital, I wrote an entire collection of fairy tales: Girls Hope, published by Gribaudo. Since then I have a dozen your pubblicazioni.Ma Lauretta was born as a writer? It was by chance. I was in fact geared to teaching. Student of literature and philosophy at the Catholic University of Milan, in 1983 I requested an interview with Father Raniero Cantalamessa, my-professed king of the History of Christian origins, but because of my extreme shyness I had thought to explain letter. But when I found myself in front of that blank sheet of paper, a strange thing happened: I started writing was once a rose .... Of course, I hid behind this I rose with my feelings, my questions. It worked: Father Cantalamessa understood and gave me the answers I expected. Not only that, but seeing that I had a talent encouraged me to write. The tales then I have opened a second path, that the voluntary hospital. In the first few months in Rome did not know anyone and one day I decided to go and read to children in hospital. The chaplain of the Policlinico Umberto I, to which I turned over the phone I said yes, I could do it, but in pediatric oncology. It was the last place I wanted to set foot in that both my parents had died of cancro.Ma the resolute tone of the chaplain, I could not pull back. The day I set foot in that department, the fear is gone I saw Mariachiara: a beautiful little girl, despite her head marked by a scar that went from ear to ear. To me, the circles to collect hair, seemed to circle the most original ever seen! And so she has softened my first encounter with the harsh reality of the hospital. Mariachiara gave me lessons of patience, heroism and faith, and so many other sick children like her. I see lots of pictures here: your little friends oncology ... Are now well over a hundred ones I have followed so far. I consider this the biggest and most grueling grace from the Lord. Immediately after Mariachiara left this earth, I felt the urge to write her a letter. Since then, I came naturally to a steer every child went to Heaven, especially not to forget them valuable life lessons. Thus was born the gathering We'll play forever, the title taken from a prophecy of Zechariah which says Jerusalem tingle of boys and girls who play on her bed. It is as if all these children have made an appointment with me in Paradise, and I imagine the day when you arrive there to scream: Lauretta, finally! Finally resume playing!. What has caused you in this contact with the innocent suffering? Not sure I can tell by the replies, I just know that I have to stop before this mystery. I'd rather tell you about an experience while I was in the playroom of the Polyclinic, Joseph, 14 years (he had a sarcoma, and in recent times the morphine was not enough to calm the pain), I was sent for. I found him sitting up in bed with a flute in his hands. You know, I learned the Spring of Vivaldi and I want you to hear. He started to play, but I have not heard of that music one note, too busy to watch the spring shone in his eyes. Now when I read the gospel of the Transfiguration of Jesus I can not do without to think of Joseph, that night, then made his face clean, clear, an arduous journey of acceptance. One of the last night, he lingered for a long time to get me hello, hello! with his hand. Both knew it was goodbye. On the street, thinking, 'Lord, I do not understand what is suffering, let alone that of children, but if accepted that produces these fruits, I promise that never again curse .... Unlike then their parents, who often have outbursts of anger, rebellion against God, children do not have attitudes like that. I think Marianeve, 7 years. We were drawing, when she suddenly told me with great force: You know, Lauretta, I'm sure that Jesus heals me!. Then he has run rivolta alla mamma: Vero, mamma, che Gesù mi gua- risce?. Ho visto il viso di lei irrigidirsi; poi, con voce estremamente dura: Nevina, se Dio voleva fare qualcosa, non ti avrebbe fatta ammalare!. Al che la bambina, senza scomporsi: Ma mamma, Dio non le fa queste cose, è il diavolo che le fa!. Perché nella loro semplicità i bambini ragionano così: Dio è buono, non può fare il male; il male quindi può venire solo dal diavolo. E a me è venuto in mente il salmo: Beato l'uomo che non imputa a Dio alcun male. Ma che effetto fanno queste favole ai bambini? Non di rado si identificano nella storia. È il caso di Mariachiara alla quale avevo letto la favola di Origami: una bambina ha costruito un fiore di paper so beautiful it seems real, why it is natural to put it in a jar with water. Origami, which feels too real, enjoy the sunshine, the scent of other flowers. Until one day the mother of the child, fearing that paper flower water can be wasted, it rests on the desk. But at this point, the element out of life, he begins to feel sick ... The flowers arrived at the sentence he fainted, his strength, then picked the petals around him and thought no more of anything, who listened with great attention Mariachiara stopped me: Origami So am I!. At that point I realized that you have in hand a tool to talk to the children of thoughts and fears that they dare not express the adults because they are aware that they do not always tell the truth. How are they taken in by your adult fairy tales? Appreciate them too, perhaps because they transform the reality is a way to understand it better. I know many who read them before going to sleep, while others use them for Catechesis (bottom draw a bit 'the Parables). I myself hold meetings in parishes and schools: the reading of a story becomes the starting point to get to explain the Word of God A little 'in contrast to today's world that privileges the image ... It's true. But I firmly believe in the evocative power of the word. Very often, when I begin to read a fairy tale, children listen to me enchanted. Gianfranco Restelli THE NIGHT OF GOD A story born in the hospital. A day at the beginning of the world, the man stood before God to ask him to get rid of the pain from the face of the earth. The man had a sick child and could not bear to see him suffer so. The pain is the most unjust ever created on earth you have said a harsh voice. God's eyes widened in surprise and replied calmly: "My son, I just can not do anything. I've created myself, the pain. In the world, as it was out of my hands, it was not there. I am quite sure, because when I covered everything I had created, I saw that everything was good. Be careful not to attribute to me what you did. You're the one who introduced the disorder, and therefore pain in the world. The man bowed his head confused, mumbled a few words from which it was clear that, basically, yes, he admitted to having some guilt, but nonetheless renewed his request, through her tears: If you do it for me, do it at least for my son! He has no guilt whatsoever, so it is not just suffering. God took pity on the weeping man and said, 'Go, my son, is' at peace, something I can do. It should be 'to stay calm and back to me tomorrow. God was alone and at night, in the immense loneliness of creation asleep, clasped her hands like a cup and I gathered up all the pain of the world. Then he took that cup to his lips and drank to the dregs. The pain tore the flesh, penetrated all the way into the heart. In the heart of God took place a tremendous struggle between the pain and love. God could be heard less and wept. The divine heart became like a big tub, full of tears that washed the pain, purified, and took all ugliness. The next morning when the man came from God, was shocked to see him so pale, so tried, but did not ask him anything, he preferred not to know what had happened. God spoke to pain, in the presence of man, and said, 'Go, my son, back on earth, no more sign of the curse but a blessing because I grant you the power to purify the human heart so, who will welcome you in my name, will become a new creation, the first fruits of a new creation. Then he spoke to himself and said: From now on, do not ask for more because of the pain, but guardane fruits. (we'll play forever, again 2000)
Vincenzino and Mohamed are two real children, which have existed, known by Lauretta at a time of his volunteering at the hospital.
Vincenzino Before the hospital was only a child of Calabria, which 'was reached after some time from Mohamed, from Iran. While
being of different faith the two become inseparable amci to the skin and in their daily lives are always together. Where was the one, there was another, never saw them alone or separated.
Unfortunately suffering from serious evils, and were destined to perish with time, but most 'of this extraordinary experience and' in reality ', died three hours away from each other.
Lauretta in his great pain, they dedicated a magnificent tale of not many words, but very significant, and imagines that after death they are walking afterlife 'direct to the Great Throne, where and' sits the Creator .. .
"The Name of God" Lauretta Perassi.
- Are you ready, Vincenzino? - Sweet voice asked the angel who had entered at that mo-ment of the child in the room at the hospital.
- Yes! - Said the boy and said, Let us go to God, right? The angel nodded
her head. Vincenzino confi-cios put her hand in that of the angel. INSI-I left the hospital, the city asleep under a blanket of stars, the earth blue and green are further along the streets of the sky, glittering with light. The boy hopped on the side of the angel, when he suddenly heard someone calling:
- Vincenzino, where are you going? Wait! He turned around and saw him coming toward her boyfriend Mohamed, a companion of many games, there in the hospital. Mohamed was also supported by an angel who wore a white robe, cinched at the waist by a band of gold.
Knowing that Mohamed had come from afar to be cured and that was in the hospital only with the pope, Vin-Cenzino asked
- You said to your daddy?
- No, I left him kneeling on the prayer-rug. M'è seemed the best time to go. I am sure that Allah will console-lo, dictate the answers right in the heart.
- Allah? - Vincenzino asked with amazement - Who is Allah? --.
Mohamed laughed. Ar Argentina-that laugh that distinguished him and made him shine the big brown eyes.
- Allah is God!
- No, God is called Trinity - Vincent replied no - I'm sure because my father told me.
- I too am sure that is called Allah, my father told me - "said Mohamed. Since the authority of a pope does not start-discussion of the two children had to conclude:
- But then your God is not the same as mine!
- This does not mean that the angels are taking us on the same side! _-Vincenzino realized in a moment and added: I do not want you-ing the Trinity, without you!
- Neither do I want to see Allah, without you! Fortunately, the angels were talking chevolmente-love with each other. A look of understanding between the two pas-I know kids who made it round and na-scosero in the midst of a bank of clouds.
- Now we must look for a place to stay together - said Mohamed. Hand in hand, the small Muslim and the small Catholic Article walked on a road to the stric turquoise.
journeyed came in sight of a city whose doors were sapphire and emerald, the mu-ra precious stones and towers of pure gold.
- EIA That house of God! - No-Vincent said. My God - then pointed out.
- No, that's the pasa of my God - with-won said Mohamed.
- But if you like the story of the Bible that I read my grandmother at home, in the evening! - Vincenzino said, almost whining.
- you can not see: there are two gardens with fruit trees, palms and pomegranates. And gushing from two sources: it's all just as it decrypts in the book of the Koran.
- Bet that is the house of my God? - Vincenzino said.
- Bet that is the house of my God? - Mohamed said.
So saying, the two children ran towards a 'main entrance in front of which stood two angels in white robes.
- the Trinity live here? - Asked Vincenzino.
- Yes - said one of the two angels, smiling. Not at all convinced, Mohamed said:
- Allah live here? - Yes - said the other angel, with the same smile.
- You are Allah? - Asked the little hand-Muslims; 
- Yes, I am.
- So you have two names! - Declare the children, amazed. - Yes, I am. - not just two, I have a lot more! - God said, amused - I even called Chance, Nature, but it is always me! - Feel - Mohamed said, the practical - you could call with a name only, since you're only one? So, just to not make confusion. - Love Call - God said, clutching his chest-is a small Catholic-Muslim and the little hand.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)