My return from the young workers’ holiday left me with an even deeper wound than I had before. Lately, I have been very worried about my future and vocation. This is the first year since I finished university and, therefore, is the most uncertain so far. In addition, a very dear cousin of mine is currently undergoing a very delicate oncological treatment. How can I live all of this?

With this great uneasiness I climbed up the mountain during a walk, and when I got to the top, with a view upon the Atlantic, I was surprised by how powerful that question was inside of me. Standing in front of the ocean, in front of such great beauty, brought with it a pang of nostalgia: "What immensity. Someone made all of this for me, and I am unable to repay them." And: "What do I do with this nostalgia? What will become of this great desire for beauty and love that God has put inside me and which seems to serve no purpose?"

Isabel, a friend, said in her testimony that nostalgia led her to seek much more. And that it is not something that disappears, but grows with time: it is a sign of Christ's preference for us. And this can only be a source of gratitude, not scandal. During the assembly on the last day, I asked a friend of mine: "What is the Church to you, now that you have made the experience of the movement? He answered me, but then he reverted the question back to me: "For me, it is the communion of saints", I said. That is, that the clearest manifestation of the holiness of our Church is the way Jesus, through his body, connects our hearts and our lives. And that he is an inexhaustible source of humanity, which can accompany us in any part of the world, at any time in history. This was very clear last year, when Lucia, a friend from the young workers in Bologna, lived in our house for a few months. I was seriously moved by the way in which she took seriously her time, her work, her relationships and how she loved her daily life. Together, we learnt that the Lord comes day after day and that it is enough, when you wake up, to pose the question: "Through whom will you look at me today, Lord?"

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As I watch my friends grow and flourish, and the many others who are already "adults", that anxiety, for a moment, stops frightening me. The lyrics of one of my favourite songs says: "I guess in the end I will never know where I am going, but I am following a path.” There is Someone who is weaving my path with infinite love. What am I to fear, then?

After living these days, returning to the city meant fearing that such fullness might end. Just like every time I come home after being with those friends. It has happened so many times, and I realize that the Lord has not stopped calling me: He never leaves me and He never disappoints me. And this requires fidelity to this path and a responsibility towards my life.

Paloma, Paraguay#LatinAmerica