The meeting of mothers and their children with disabilities took place that very evening, and, just as I had hoped, I saw the stranger from the afternoon arrive with her daughter: Mariangela and Chicca.
It was an August afternoon in Lourdes, sometime in 1968 or 1969…
I was there with our daughter Sophie, who was severely disabled, along with other parents, standing along the Esplanade. We were reciting the Rosary as we waited for the Blessed Sacrament Procession to pass, sharing the pain we carried as parents of children with various disabilities.
A young mother in a floral dress caught my attention: she was walking quickly toward the Grotto, pushing a stroller with a little girl who looked like my Sophie. She looked utterly crushed. A very caring nun accompanied her. The two of them crossed the Esplanade.
I felt compelled to run toward her. I gently touched the little girl and handed her mother an invitation to a spontaneous meeting I had organized for that same evening, a gathering for parents of children with disabilities. She thanked me, and the nun gave me a knowing wink that said, “I’ll make sure she goes.”
I returned to my place beside Sophie, holding this unknown mother in my heart. Through her disabled daughter, she had suddenly become so close to me… She must have been in front of the Grotto of the Apparition by then, and surely, tears were flowing.
The meeting of mothers and their children took place that very evening. And just as I had hoped, the woman I had seen earlier came with her daughter: Mariangela and Chicca. A Roman among us. We introduced ourselves and shared our stories. Mariangela spoke French fluently. An immediate sense of sisterhood blossomed among us all. A priest listened, helping us pray in a simple, heartfelt way. We scheduled another gathering, and spontaneously, we sang the Magnificat.
I left with Mariangela; Sophie and Chicca led the way in their strollers. We met up with Paolo, who was walking with their younger son, Nanni. That encounter marked the beginning of a deep friendship. We continued our pilgrimage together. And we went on many more after that. With the birth of Faith and Light in Rome, Mariangela became a beloved figure known to communities across Italy and beyond, through the immense love she gave and her remarkable gifts.
I will never forget Mother Tesserenc, who accompanied Mariangela with such grace.
I will never forget Paolo, Chicca’s father, and Nanni, her brother, who used to play with Sophie’s sisters.
I visited Rome many times. I especially remember the day when Chicca was lifted into the arms of Pope Paul VI on his gestatorial chair! Many pilgrimages to Rome were organized from my region—wonderful gatherings among communities.
I love to recall and relive those moments of sharing that helped our families grow in humanity. To me, they’ve always felt like a “Visitation”…
This year (2014, editor’s note), Mariangela joined Chicca and many of her friends in Heaven. A few weeks later, Jean, my husband, followed, joining our daughter Sophie.
From above, they watch over us. I believe it with all my heart.
– Marie-Françoise Heyndrickx (Friquette), 2014
