Sobriety “Every morning, before taking the bus, I walk part of the way on foot and am often drawn by the same scene: men and women, children and elderly, dressed with dignity, all equipped with shopping carts and rods, fishing for a bit of everything from the rubbish bins. They teach me something in their own way. As a Christian, I try to remain attentive to what is essential and to avoid waste: to opt for sobriety, recycling, answering with a firm ‘no’ every time consumerism tempts me with its offerings.” (Emilie – Italy) The Grandmother “’Love your enemies.’ This sentence from the Gospel shocked me because – thinking about it – I also have an enemy: the Grandmother whom my family hasn’t visited in because of old misunderstandings. When I heard that she wasn’t well, I thought I would go to visit her. My parents were amazed that I had suddenly remembered her. They didn’t feel like going after so many years, but I wanted to be able to see her. When I went into her home, everyone looked at me amazed and treated me with coldness. It wasn’t easy, but I stepped up. Grandmother was not at all well. She was dozing, but when she awoke, I was able to say hello, and she embraced me. “You’re my grandson, I know you. I’m happy, happy. . . We both wept for joy. When I returned home, I convinced my parents, and we went back altogether to visit her. It was a very emotional moment! Not even a week later, Grandmother left us for Heaaven.” (S. A. – Pakistan) It was me “We were in the countryside. There was a little boy next door, named Tino who was living in a difficult environment; perhaps for this reason he is so violent towards our Andrea. One afternoon, I found Andrea’s new bicycle broken. Losing patience, I wanted to know who it had been. Shortly afterwards Andrea came in, downcast and dejected. ‘Mamma, I broke the bicycle.’ Greatly surprised, I had to shout at him before I forgave him. The next day, when we were alone talking, the boy confessed: “You know, Mamma, it was Tino who broke the bicycle. But you were so angry yesterday that I was frightened for him. They’re always shouting at him in his house. . .’”(I.P. – Brazil)