One cold December day in 1983, my parents, older siblings and I nervously arrived in the early morning hours at the Bronze door at the Vatican. We were met by a serious and elegant Swiss guard, who escorted us through huge corridors to a room where we could leave our coats.
A group of circumspect cardinals also arrived and hung theirs on a coat rack, not seeing that a small child was there. They buried me in cloths, but I managed to get out and join my family. We were going to Mass with the Pope, his personal Mass, along with a few others.
Again the soldier of the Roman Pontiff's guard encouraged us to follow him. We advanced in silence through new corridors until he stopped to bow. He indicated to us with gestures that this was it. We looked out and saw san John Paul II sitting in front of the tabernacle, praying.
We stood at the front on the right, and it was my turn to sit on the left in that first pew, the one closest to a man who bore all the weight of the Church. The Vicar of Christ on earth was praying in concentration, oblivious to the movement and sounds we made as the small number of people attending the Mass entered.
But life brings surprises and neither St. John Paul II nor anyone else expected what was going to happen. That eight-year-old boy was doing what he had to do, being a boy, and he had some marbles in his pocket. After overcoming the humid Roman cold to get to Vatican City, the fright with the coats and the cardinals, the awe of the walk through threatening corridors following a formal soldier, the novelty of everything I was experiencing and the illusion of being there with the Pope, what better way to calm down and gain security thanks to the familiar touch of my marbles in my pocket?
However, the marbles had not yet calmed down and, with that mania of theirs to move wildly, they came out of my pocket and bounced and rolled! Their joyful, singing pealing on the marble floor of the Pope's personal chapel broke the silence and interrupted the conversation between God and Karol Wojtyla, or perhaps it did not disturb them, but rather fueled it.
In my head the marbles were bouncing in slow motion and it was the only sound that all of us who were there heard and it echoed off the ceiling. What was going to happen? St. John Paul II raised his head, turned and smiled. He could have sent the Swiss guard to chase that child out of his palace, but he smiled. He could have pretended that the commotion during his morning prayer did not attract his attention, but he smiled.
He could have looked at me with a grim and stern expression and told me "can't you see that I am talking to God about all that we have to put in order in the church and in the world?"but he smiled. I could have scolded my parents, but he smiled.
Karol Wojtyla was attentive to reality and allowed himself to be surprised and affected by it; he had his feet on the ground and his head in the sky; he did not give himself importance; he allowed everyone to be himself and counted on you for God's plans; he knew that playing is necessary every day of life to face every moment with a sporting and playful sense; he had a sense of humor; he walked with God and turned the ordinary into prayer; he did not waste time with meaningless anger; he took an opportunity from the inopportune; he made family and home wherever he was.... And he smiled, he smiled a lot. A treatise on healthy psychology and the integration of psychology and mental health.
Thanks to his intervention, and that deep spontaneity that he himself lived and that he proposes in Love and responsibilityI can say that I am a child who made a saint smile, rather than a child who distracted or angered the head of state of the Vatican.
After Mass he greeted us one by one and gave us a rosary. When it was my turn, my mother said to him: "I am a good friend.It's named after you.". He gave me a kiss and said: "Carolo, Carolo!". He didn't say it out loud, but as a child I understood what was going on: he wanted to play marbles with me for a while, but he couldn't stay. He had arranged to play with other grown-ups, and he asked me to play for him. So, to this day, come and play!
