The episode that has stuck most in my mind is the one concerning the visit of the Director of Education, towards the end of the school year. The teacher had warned us the day before so that we were well prepared. I was so scared at the thought of that important man who came from the city and who would question us, that I didn't want - for the first time - to go to school! That morning, in fact, I remained crying along the road; but the teacher - who didn't want to give up my presence, considering me the best in the class! She – she came personally to look for me and she forcefully dragged me to the school. I remember that, having reached the halfway point of the stairs, since I really had to enter the classroom, I heartily begged her: "Let me dry my eyes (sic!)". She dried them for me herself, smiling. Everything then went well because the Director approached me gently and put his hand on my head; then he questioned the class. My classmates were silent and looked at me, urging me to answer. I did it in such a way... as to make the teacher and the whole class deserve a nice positive opinion; However, I was still ashamed of the attempt I had made not to go to school and for those occi, which I had said in dialect, while crying.
In the second grade the parish priest already came to the school in our neighborhood to teach us catechism in preparation for first communion and confirmation. I listened to his lessons filling me with sweetness and joy; I felt the desire to receive the sacraments, to receive Jesus and the Holy Spirit, growing within me, but with a certain trepidation.
The date of the First Communion was set in April, during Easter time, and Confirmation in May, for the feast of Pentecost.
When the parish priest came to administer the sacrament of first Confession to us, I expected him himself to tell us what our sins were, so I felt embarrassed when faced with his question: "Have you done something that displeased Jesus?". «I don't know – I replied –, I don't know what bothers him…». And he: «For example, if you disobeyed your parents, if you argued with your siblings, if you told lies… If you said bad words…».
I didn't feel like I had committed these sins; so I replied to him: "I don't remember, but if Jesus saw them, I ask for forgiveness...". The priest smiled and, taking my face in his hands, told me: «Jesus is happy to come into your heart; I give you his forgiveness for everything you didn't do well and with love." This clarification remained imprinted on me: I began to understand that it is not enough to do well, but that everything must also be done with love, for the love of Jesus and of everyone. Finally Sunday dawn arrived, in a very modest white dress, I went up to the little church of Canevino, crossing the fields and the woods in which spring had already woken up.
My two older sisters and some neighbors accompanied me. However, the anxious wait to receive the holy host ended with a sense of almost bewilderment; that host was such a simple thing, without flavor – I thought it was very sweet! – And she immediately melted in her mouth… But I said to myself: I still believe that it is the Lord!
And on the way back my heart was beating strongly, as if it were Jesus'.
In the family everything was like every Sunday; back then, there were no festive lunches with guests, gifts and souvenir photos... The reason for joy was only Him: Jesus!
Then came the day of Confirmation. We had to go to another parish, because the Bishop, on a pastoral visit, gathered all the confirmation candidates of the vicariate in that church. My older sister and a young seamstress who would act as my godmother still accompanied me. Starting early in the morning, we walked for a long time on a country road and even crossed a stream. Clogs on your feet and shoes in your hands; I also wore the white dress at the gates of the town because it would have been ruined before.
I always have that great church in my eyes – so it seemed to me! -, full of people. The bishop on the altar, majestic in his pontifical vestments... Smell of incense, lights, songs... We confirmands were arranged in two rows - male and female - facing each other, in the center of the nave. Behind each one, the godfather or godmother. They told me that the Bishop, after anointing us with the holy chrism, would give us a slap, as if to tell us that we had to be strong, ready to suffer as "soldiers of Christ". I was waiting for that moment with emotion, but the Bishop, when he stopped in front of me, anointed my forehead and then caressed me with three fingers!
We returned home, so to speak, flying. And throughout the day, to the amazement of my family, I sang to the Holy Spirit with words and melodies invented by my imagination: «Come, Holy Spirit, / come, dove, come from heaven, / come into my heart / and give me wings to fly, / and give me wings to fly, and give me wings to fly!...".
Was I really under the influence of the Spirit I had received? Perhaps on that very day poetry blossomed in my heart. And I felt that all creation was singing with me.