Monday was a special day for the disabled. Triply so. It marked the European Year for Equal Opportunities and the International Day of People with a Disability, as well as the 20th anniversary of the setting up of the National Commission for People with a Disability (Kummissjoni Nazzjonali Persuni b' Diżabilitŕ, or KNPD).
The three occasions were commemorated with drinks offered by Prime Minister Lawrence Gonzi and Mrs Gonzi. Fittingly, the location was the Auberge de Castille, the Prime Minister's seat of office. The place is a national landmark. There our Prime Ministers deliberate and act as leaders of the nation, of the whole people, not as partisan heads of their political party.
The disabled come from all the people and belong to all of us. Thousands of families know from close quarters what it means to have a disabled member.
From afar it appears to be a burden. And, no doubt about it, the disabled and those who care for them have a great weight to carry. From close quarters it is invariably no less than a burden of love. The love, care and attention showered on the disabled by those who love them is a joy to experience and to watch.
It is not a matter of resignation to a disability discovered at the birth of a child, or arising from some accident during one's lifetime.
No one is resigned to love. Resignation is passive. Love is as active as can be. To be given that love is one of the most wonderful feelings one can have. The disabled bathe in its warmth. Even where there is severe mental disability, somehow, through the workings of a mysterious Creator, the love gets through. It is reflected in a smile, a sigh, a reaching out. It is all the satisfaction those who give their love desire. They do not wish for thanks, even when the disabled person is able to offer it. That sort of giving does not expect anything in return other than that the loved one is, and hopefully feels, cared for.
Disability covers an extensive range. Some disabilities, like my own, are such that they do not really handicap the disabled person in anything. They lead a normal life. It is just a question of one accepting their different physical make-up. And the eyes of love not only tell the heart to do so - they do not see the difference at all.
Other disabilities are largely overcome. With God's help. With the help of loving, committed carers. And with the grit, steel and determination of the disabled individual. At the Auberge de Castille on Monday I met so many examples of that. I shall cite only three. I came across a young man whom I have known since his childhood. He belongs to a family who, more than former constituents, were and remain close friends of mine. He was born with spina bifida. His parents lived with the physical difference but, through the eyes of love, saw the potential of their disabled son. At every stage of his life he enjoyed their encouragement to strive to reach the goals he set himself. His immobility, overcome with the aid of a modern wheelchair, did not hinder him one bit. He excelled academically throughout his years at school. He followed the degree course of his choice.
And what are you doing now? I asked him. With irrepressible enthusiasm he told me he was preparing for a master's degree online with a UK university. He outlined to me his plans to achieve that goal, his hopes for the future. I could not help repeating to myself the expression which comes so easily to followers of Islam, God is great.
There is also greatness among us. Both Prime Minister Lawrence Gonzi and Opposition leader Alfred Sant, I know from the years I was close to both of them, have the interests of the disabled foremost in their heart. So do many sitting and potential ministers. God is indeed great. And man and woman can be great, too, in the understanding and commitment.
The second example I shall cite from among the people I met at the Auberge de Castille on Monday is someone I did not know.
I was introduced to him by a lady who is an indefatigable worker promoting and fulfilling the education of disabled people. He is blind. On hearing my name he immediately said: Thanks to modern technology, I can now follow your articles.
I am grateful to all my readers. Never have I been so grateful on meeting one for the first time. My heart sang. And it did so almost loudly when I also met the inspiring president of the KNPD, Joe Camilleri. The severe disability which came along in his youth has simply energised him to be a dynamic for the disabled, for sense, goodwill and effective action. A dynamic few others are blessed with.
He went through the many guests who turned up, demonstrating his wit, his commitment, his joy to be able to share the occasion with other disabled people and with those who do not have a disability.
The real disability one can have, I recalled once again to myself, is to see the disabled as children of a lesser God. It is not to recognise, appreciate and help develop their potential. It is the disability of not being touched by a love of the deepest, purest kind.