I was in prison and you visited me
I need God. You need God. The whole world needs God. This thought raised a question in my mind: What could I do to encounter God in my life? What could I do to have a personal relationship with Him? Reading the Gospel and listening to others who were asking the same questions, I realized that the important thing is to pray and love your neighbour. These two things have revolutionised my life. Without prayer and love for my neighbour, the Always A Person project would never have begun. What is this project? Around 18 years ago a friend asked me for a favour: “I have been given the names and addresses of 6 prison inmates; we could write to three of them – three for you and three for me. It might cheer them up.” I immediately agreed to what he was asking because I remembered Jesus words: “I was in prison and you visited me” (Mt. 25:36). I wrote the letters and a few days later one of them, Giorgio, replied: ‘I’m really happy to be friends with you. God has sent you. . .’ Then he asked me for a favour: ‘Could you go to my mother’s house? She’s ill. Bring her a kiss from me.” So I went. I was told that she lived on the fourth floor. In the lift I was thinking: ‘What will I say to her? How will she welcome me?’ But I was already involved in this little adventure and I wanted to see it through whatever the cost. ‘Madam,’ I said to her, ‘I’m a friend of your son. We write to each other. He asked me to visit you and bring you a kiss from him.’ She was moved and began to weep. ‘My son is good, my son is good; a bit lively,’ she said. ‘He’s made many mistakes. His girlfriends led him to make mistakes, but he’s not bad! I have a tumour and only have a short time to live. I see that you genuinely care for my son; stay near to him. Help him, I beg you!’ A week before she died, I visited her in hospital. There were many people around her bed. ‘Be near to him Giorgio, Giorgio, Giorgio!’ she said to me. These were her last words. When I went to visit Giorgio, some of his friends wanted to talk to me. Thus I came to know many others in different sections of the jail. Many told me about their families living around the areas of Rome and the surrounding regions. I felt urged to visit them. I brought food and such to the poorest among them: nappies and baby food where there were children. This calmed the inmates, knowing that someone was looking after their families; and the families were also comforted, and some of them began visiting their inmate husband or son. Then to my great joy, I received requests from some ex-inmates to collaborate with me. Now there are thirty of us (volunteers and ex-inmates) who bring groceries and other supplies to more than 70 families living in at-risk areas of Rome and in the surrounding districts. We don’t receive support from anyone; everything we distribute comes from a few parishes around Rome, as a witness to the life we share. The funds we gather are spent on groceries and supplies. We always find that God is generous and sends us what we are in need of. you for listening to my story! I’m now convinced that if we pray and serve our neighbour, we will make many people happy; we’ll be happy and we’ll change the world around us. (Alfonso Di Nicola)
“The Church today insists on presenting the imitation of Mary in terms of hearing and practicing God’s Word. This is best summarised in her attitude towards the will of God and words of Jesus: “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart” (Lk. 2:19). She made her heart into a paradise of divine treasures, a chamber for the Incarnate and spoken Word of God. She held Wisdom in her heart, just as she held Jesus in her womb. She was able to welcome God into her womb because she was always so accustomed to emptying herself, so that he could fill her with his mind. She lived the ordinary life of most people in her world, burdened with the work and concerns of the family that were common to everyone else. In order to become all things to all people she turned the common everyday events of her life into the raw material of her holiness showing that one can ascend to the heights of God without ever living outside the realm of common existence. In this way she is the model for every living person; and every living person is in a position to reproduce, to prolong her mission in the human family – and to reproduce her under any human condition. Every soul can imitate Mary. It only has to act in such a way that whoever sees the way it expresses itself will recognise or maybe even discover Mary who gave the world its Redeemer. Everyone can find himself in Mary: the poor, the worker, the ailing and the aging; and in her you can just as easily find the scholar, the scientist and the statesman: Bernard, Aquinas, Dante, Milton and Manzoni. . . Many do not know how to define Christianity, and they also ignore the secondary definitions. But from their mothers or at school, they have taken away and cherish an image of Mary. They know from that image that Christianity is a collection of good things: love, loyalty, solidarity, strength, innocence, joy, beauty. . . Mary is all the most desired virtues put together that moreover are lived in a simplicity which makes them accessible to all. It’s enough to rely on God as she does, placing yourself in his hands (. . .) If you look at your neighbour with your own eyes and consider with your own mind the economy, politics and all the models of coexistence, you’ll only come up with bitterness. But if you look at people and things with the eyes of Mary, you will more surely be filled with pity. Her tears drench everything in love. And in the divine light all that seems grandiose, horrific and fatal is deflated. Everything is returned to its truly small dimensions (. . .) if you look at the world with the eyes of Mary sparks of human sympathy and poetry begin to arise from even the gloomiest faces and darkest situations. The divine life begins to surface, which had been inserted in humanity by the Incarnation. Mary is simple and thus the imitation of Mary involves the total dismantling of complicated words, studied gestures and relationships woven by diplomacy (. . .) in other words washing away all the makeup that has been applied to the soul, so that one can uncover one’s self as God created it. There could be the objection that acting in such a way would leave you open to the attacks of the clever and sophisticated. But perhaps the best defence against such attacks (and also the cleverer) rests in simplicity which is dismounting. Truth is the subtlest form of diplomacy. Mary proceeds straight on her way, says what she thinks, does what she must. All the souls that use the arms of goodness, prayer, repentance and forgiveness are able to find themselves in Mary. Imitating Mary, or better, uniting ourselves to Mary, the march of existence turns into a Heavenward ascent. The bitterness of life becomes sweetness if we let ourselves be taken by her hand, her pure and motherly hand that never grows tired.” Igino Giordani in: Maria modello perfetto, (Rome: Città Nuova, 2001).
The aunt who was erased. “I have an auntie whom I loved very much. During school holidays I would go and work on her farm. I was her favourite niece, but when I married things began to change. She never wanted to come to my house and never met my children. I was so angry that for fifteen years I never put foot in her house. I had totally erased her from my life. Recently, while reading the Gospel I came across the words: Love your neighbor. I said to myself that I was missing something important, forgiveness for my aunt. I returned to the village and convinced my mother to accompany me to her house, because I didn’t even remember the way. When we reached the house, I felt like the Prodigal Son. We both wept tears of joy. She happily accepted what I had brought for her. It was difficult to say goodbye to each other, and she greeted me over and over again. Peace had returned to us, and now I try to always keep the flame of affection burning in my family and around me.” S. P. (Africa) 
Apres ski boots. “One morning a young Albanese woman knocked at our door, asking for some clothing and shoes. I began putting some things together as my children watched me going back and forth to the door. Then I saw my son Gianni’s favourite après ski boots sitting by the front door. I asked him why they were there: “Give them to the lady,” he replied, “for her children. Besides, it’s not going to snow anymore.” It was the middle of October. It’s really true that generosity begins in our children when they see it in us.” F. P. (Italy) 
