Vulnerability

I woke up on the first day of the year to shocking news that hurt me deeply; perhaps because, above all, I am a mother of three children. The headline read that more than forty minors had died in a fire inside a club in Switzerland, while celebrating the last night of the year.

Each young man who died had a dream story, a group of friends, a school desk and parents who had given him life. I was especially moved by the testimony of a boy who managed to escape the flames - those survivors who become news by the simple miracle of not having perished with the rest: «Hell exists; I have lived it».

Two weeks later, I woke up to another tragedy: a train accident in which many people lost their lives and many others remained missing, probably trapped in the iron jumble that the train car had become. A journalist friend who was covering the news told me: «Now, the hardest thing is to start reconstructing each of these stories in order to tell them».

Each life is the same as the others and, at the same time, it is unique. We feel vulnerable as we read these chronicles; so much so that, as we board a train and take our seats, we pray to God that nothing happens and we manage to reach our destination.

However, it is in feeling this way - fragile, small, in need of others - that gratitude comes to the surface. As Brené Brown says, «Vulnerability rings true and feels like courage. Truth and courage are not always comfortable, but they never represent weakness.».