Mother Elvira

“Looking back at my story, in the light of my encounter with God, I am blessed to have been born into a poor and large family. We immigrated from Sora to Alexandria during World War II (1940-1945). I am grateful to be “the daughter of poor people” and to have lived with my parents and my brothers and sisters. We lived a life filled with many hardships and sacrifices. I also experienced the “poverty” of my father’s alcohol dependence. Therefore, my mother had to work long days outside of the house to support us. She worked as a nurse and carried the full weight of the family but she always maintained her dignity and strength. When she came home from work in the evening we would hear her humming with so much serenity and confidence despite the problems she faced every day. She taught us that life is worth more than any problem, more than any difficulty, more than any sufferance!

As a child, life taught me to always think of others before myself. Today I recognize that this was a gift and my first personal and Christian growth. I remember one of my mother’s sayings when, by chance, we had some bread at home, because it wasn’t easy to find bread during the war, or maybe there were cherries that had ripened. I would be with my friends— maybe they were four, five, six, seven, or eight years old— and my mother would come to me immediately and say, ‘Remember, Rita, all mouths are sisters. You can’t put something in your own mouth without giving some to the others.’ In that moment, we were taught to live in a solidarity that made us a family. When we give to others we become a universal family that can say together: Our Father. Today I recognize that God guided my life through the fragility of my father. Despite everything he was my teacher because he taught me the meaning of sacrifice and made me understand the feeling of humiliation…today I feel truly free!”

“I was a happy nun in love with the Lord and with life, but at a certain point something began in me that wasn’t my decision. Like a fire, an inner push that lead me towards young people. I saw them disappointed and lost. In front of the Eucharist I seemed to hear their cry of pain. I realized they were abandoned, marginalized by this consumer society. I realized that there was no more dialogue or communication within families. There was no trust between parents and children; the young people were left alone and I saw them sad on the streets. In prayer I could to hear their cry of pain. The youth were on one side and we were on the other, and I suffered. I felt a push inside that I couldn’t suppress any longer, and it continued to grow. It wasn’t an idea, I didn’t even know what was happening inside of me. I felt like I had to give the youth something that God put inside of me for them. The call to open the doors to the abandoned, the addicts, those desperate people you meet in the stations, on the streets, in the towns was certainly not “my idea.” What is happening, the story we are experiencing could not have come from the ideas or intuition of a poor woman like me. I am the first to be surprised every moment at what is happening: how could I have invented a story like this?”

“God’s call makes you capable of believing and doing things you would never have thought possible. It wasn’t easy for me to explain to my superiors how I felt. I am well aware that it wasn’t easy for them to believe that what I was asking really came from God. I asked several times, for many years, to be able to open a house to welcome these young people. In response, they rightly pointed out my limits and my poverty: I hadn’t studied, I was not prepared…it was all true. But inside of me a volcano was erupting and would not go dormant until I responded to God who enriched me with a gift, that was not mine, to give to the young people.

It was not difficult to wait, but I suffered because it seemed like a waste of time to me. I waited with so much confidence, patience and hope. Someone told me: “Elvira, why don’t you leave your congregation so you can do whatever you want!” But I didn’t want “to do what I wanted”, it was something else that was happening in me. This is why I waited, prayed, suffered, and loved. There were moments of temptation when I started to think “Why don’t they have trust?” But then I said to myself: “But why should they trust me, this poor creation?” Now I am able to understand that this time of waiting was a blessing. They were birth pains. The tenacity and patience that God gave me were the seal of His paternity on what was being born.”

“I remember that day well, it was July 16, 1983 on the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel when I received the keys to open the house and begin the work.  When I saw that gate, I let out a big sigh of joy; everything inside of me danced! An explosion of life erupted inside of me: it was the joy gained from waiting for the moment my desire was fulfilled. Those who accompanied me put their hands on their heads after seeing the state of the house. It was in ruins, without doors, without windows, the roof needed to be repaired. There were no beds, no tables, no pots or pans and I had no money…nothing! I looked at their bewildered faces but saw the house as it is today: rebuilt, beautiful and full of young people! It is amazing how the Lord sustained me, consoled and comforted me! I thought that it was a big enough house to have at least  fifty guys, but after a short time the rooms were full. I was amazed and struggled inside with what to do. Life continued to move forward, the young people continued to knock at our door and so we opened another house, and then another one. We began in Italy and then went abroad, here and there…now I don’t count anymore.”

“In the beginning we lived in poverty because we had nothing except the certainty of our trust in God. I discovered God the Father when I was still a child and it that is how to trust Him when times were tough. We had nothing and I often heard my mother repeat a litany: ‘Holy Cross of God, do not abandon us!’ No one likes to suffer, but I understood how important it is to learn how to live the time of the Cross in our lives. The Cross is our mother and we have to welcome her and love her to live the rest of life well. I didn’t just want the young people we welcomed to hear about God, but I wanted them to see His concrete fatherhood. I said to God ‘I will welcome them. I give you my whole life, but you show them that you are a Father!’ After all these years, I can testify to you, with joy, that His Providence has never disappointed us!”