Living His Joy
Alëna Nikolaeva - My name is Alëna. I am 44 years old and live in Kazakhstan, in the city of Karaganda.
In 1997, I graduated from high school, and that year remains etched in my memory not only as a time of final exams and uncertainty about the future but also as the moment a friendship that would change everything entered my life.
At that time, Majkuduk was the gloomiest neighborhood in the city: gray five-story buildings, cold hallways, and constant power and heating outages. We were used to the cold and a harsh, unwelcoming reality. But in the midst of all this gloom,there was a place where we could warm ourselves not only physically but also spiritually: the “Pellegrino” literary club. It was a small corner of freedom and exploration where our teachers, Ljubov' and Oksana, brought us together. We staged plays, discussed books, sang, and searched for truth. There was something authentic about those meetings, something more than just a school club. We eagerly sought answers to questions like, “What is the meaning of life?” “Where am I going?” and “Is there more to life than the daily routine?”
One day, Oksana invited an Italian to our history class. We didn't know who he was. Simply, an extraordinarily cheerful,lively man entered who seemed to glow from within. He talked about Italy, but that wasn't what struck us. We were amazed by the way he spoke, looked at us, and smiled. He was Father Edoardo.
After the class, we couldn't stop talking about him. We asked ourselves, “Why is he like this? Where does this joy come from? How can he be so free?” He didn't give us ready-made answers, but his presence sparked new questions within us—questions that were alive and real.
After a while, he invited us to spend a vacation together. We went and saw something we had never encountered before:truly happy students. They sang, hugged, laughed, and talked to each other as if every second of conversation were precious. I couldn't understand why they lived like that—why they rejoiced in even the most ordinary things.
At one point, I just stopped and looked around: the mountains, the sun, the crystal-clear air, the voices, laughter, and singing... and I felt I was part of something great. In that moment, a desire was born in me to live that way, too. I wanted to understand where that freedom, that joy, that happiness came from. I wanted that for my own life. Soon after, however,I decided I had already “received” that experience. I thought, “Okay, I understand everything. Now I can move on and build my life.” I got married and became a mother.
Without realizing it, the light I had seen slowly began to fade. But God never stops calling. Just when I thought I had forgotten that path, He found me again. Becoming a mother filled my world with beauty. But after six months, my daughter had her first seizure and began to fall behind in her development; she couldn't crawl, walk, or talk.
Our lives changed: hospitals, baffled doctors, no diagnosis. For years, we searched for a miracle cure, for a doctor who would tell us, “We'll fix everything,” but the answers gave us no hope. We couldn't accept the diagnosis. Our life became a struggle: for a place in kindergarten, for the right to an education, for humane treatment. The future was terrifying.
My husband took refuge in his work and friends. I looked at him with anger and exhaustion. I was exasperated by my daughter's constant screaming, her stubbornness, and the fact that I couldn't change her. I yelled at her. Then I cried. I looked at other families and thought, “Why them and not us? Why me?” A constant sense of guilt accompanied me. Life had become a vicious cycle of hospitals, school, conflicts, and attempts to find joy, but I couldn't find any answers. Inside me was an insatiable hunger; nothing was ever enough. Years passed. I grew accustomed to that vicious cycle of struggle,fear, and exhaustion.
But God always finds a way. It all started with a meeting in the schoolyard, where I had taken my younger daughter.There I saw Ljubov' again, my former teacher, with whom I had found that Friendship years before. I asked her, almost by chance, “Are those meetings still happening?” She simply replied, “Of course. Everything is still here.” Then, looking at me carefully, she asked, “How are you doing?” I told her about Polina. She smiled and said, “A child like that is loved even more. Come with us on vacation.”
There, among the people I had known, I saw eyes shining with happiness. I saw their families—joyful and free. Suddenly,I realized how closed off I was. I realized that my life was a meaningless race, just running in circles. My heart was once again filled with wonder at this incredible gift I had received. But the real turning point came when I met Enrico Craighero. He told me about his life, which was full of trials, yet his eyes were happy. I looked at him and thought,“How? How can you live like this? How can you be happy in these circumstances, with two severely disabled children?” I knew then that I wanted to live like that. I wanted my life to shine again; I wanted to learn to love.
And so my new adventure began. My friends suggested I do charity work at an institution for the mentally ill, where our friend Žanna lived. I saw the tenderness in the eyes of the friends who were with me, and something inside me began to change. My desire for an authentic human experience grew. I suggested to my friends that we organize a New Year's party at the school for special-needs children where my daughter studied. It was an awkward first encounter, but what happened struck me. That altruism spoke of something great—something that did not belong to them, but to Christ. From then on,there were Polina's birthdays and Christmas parties on the ninth floor (the movement's headquarters in Karaganda), where we invited Polina's friends and their parents. This love manifested itself even more clearly in the “fruit of our Friendship”:the inclusive center "Faro" for special young people. When we were organizing the first party for the center's inauguration, we were talking about facing reality, and Father Pier said, “If God wants this center to open, He has already prepared everything.”
Now, five years later, seeing the large "Faro" building being constructed on the grounds of our cathedral—thanks to our bishop, Adelio, and the enormous help of friends—we understand that it is the work of God, not of man. During the pandemic in the spring of 2020, when the world came to a standstill, when we were confined to our homes and schools closed, it seemed the future had lost all certainty. But it was then that "Faro" was born. It was a time of enormous uncertainty but also of a great desire to live. During those months, Father Julián Carrón accompanied us. We worked on the School of Community, listened to him, and understood that we shouldn't be afraid of reality but should look at it with hope. “Life is Christ's initiative,” Carrón said. “If He never tires of beginning, we cannot tire of responding.” And we responded. At first, we welcomed the kids only on Saturdays, but over time, "Faro" grew. Now, activities take place five times a week! The kids have learned to sew, make ravioli, and bake cakes; they create handicrafts, sing, dance, work with their hands, and become more confident. But "Faro" isn't just for children; it's also a meeting place for mothers.
"We arrive here tired, anxious, and suffering, but we leave with amazement and gratitude. Because here we see a special way of looking at us and our children: an attentive, loving gaze, free from pity and prejudice. We are amazed by the altruism of people who come not out of compassion, but out of love."
The "Faro" families participate in the Movement's summer vacations, and after the exhibition on Father Giussani in 2023,one mother said, “Giussani is a friend of ours whom we have never seen but whom we met at 'Faro.'” It was here that many mothers encountered Father Giussani for the first time. They read his words and listened to stories about him, but the most surprising thing is that they met him through the people who accompany them in their greatest needs.
How is this possible? Father Giussani said, “Christ is present here and now, in this place, in these faces, in these relationships.” And it is truly so! At "Faro," we see a love that does not fade, a friendship that remains, a gaze that changes lives. “We arrived here tired, disappointed, and afraid for our children's future. But here we have seen a human gaze full of tenderness and respect. We have understood that our children are not a problem but a gift. We have understood that our life is not limited by fear but is open to beauty. And this has changed everything.”
Father Carrón said, “Everything depends on our 'yes,' on our willingness to follow Christ here and now.” Five years ago,we said that “yes,” and a place was born that has become a home for our children and for us. We don’t know what the future holds, but we know one thing for sure: "Faro" is a place where Christ meets us here and now, a place where special children and their mothers learn to love life. It is a place where Father Giussani's words resonate every day: “The human heart is made for the infinite.” And I understand that this is the truth of my life.
