I see all the justice of your working, O my Jesus, but I also feel all the torment of this new pain. How painful certain fiats are, my love!
I consider that You on your Cross saw your Mother - at least You saw Her- and that mine, on the other hand, in my long agony has been close so little - for just reasons and for unjust reasons, arising from her way of thinking. And I will be alone, in the hands of outsiders, at the hour of death. I consider that You also assisted your putative Father, and I did not. I am thus led to think that in this I am not like the Master, but I have surpassed the Master with a moral suffering which You did not have.
And I look at your Mother, who experienced this pain of not assisting her father and her mother... Nor do I even say, “And She experienced the pain of not having You close by in the final hour,” for I consider that You must have been with Her to offer Her the loving ministry of rocking her last sleep, as She rocked your first one. But I was not rocked by my mother in the hour of birth, and I will be alone at death.
Be close to me, Jesus. I have never asked You to make Yourself felt, for I think it is beautiful to leave You free to act as You please, but now I say this to You, now I entreat You because I cannot resist my pain so devoid of comfort.
Help me, Jesus! Help me to be able to suffer and not go mad, for in my poor head, so full of suffering and moral pain, You know better than I what may happen. Take it in your dear hands, Jesus.
You promised176 to be my mother and father, in addition to being a brother and spouse. The hour to be such has come.177
Take me, for You see what I am suffering...
Jesus says:
“I ask only to take this head of yours crowned with pain and that heart of yours pierced by pain in my hands.
“I never fail to keep my promises. I am with you and do not even say to you, ‘Don’t cry,’ but, rather, say to you, ‘Cry in my arms.’ There are sorrows which call for tears, and I do not impede what is just. Ever. Cry and listen. The tears will dry in the warmth of my words.
“It is true that you have what I did not - that is, the distance of your mother. But consider, my daughter, that you are not innocent and that she is not innocent. Mother and I were, and yet We were united and divided in death. I told you178 that to see Me, high upon the cross, was agony upon agony for my Mother. And We were the Innocent Ones!
“Your suffering and the suffering of your mother are not without a purpose, Maria. Do you think your Jesus can do something useless? Can the suspicion arise in you that He, who loves you so much and loves your mother - for she, too, is a daughter of my Redemption - can give pains without a holy purpose? No, Maria. Haven’t you asked Me to show all mercy to your mother’s soul? Know, now, that her suffering on earth, in this long illness, is to diminish her expiation beyond; know that your suffering has the same purpose.
“I know this crushes you. But if the olive were not crushed, could it yield the oil which nourishes, heals, and consecrates?
“I said to Lazarus’ sister, ‘Whoever believes in Me will never die.’ Not all come to have that faith in Me needed to have a prompt resurrection in the glory of my Paradise.
“I need there to be those who believe - who believe not once, but seven times over - for those who tepidly believe, to give the lukewarm a final flash of faith, and so absolute as to make them appear in my presence clothed in this final flash. the workers of the final hour I now go begging for acts of heroism in faith and generosity which will pay for these workers who are deprived of heavenly currency.
“And, I previously told you,179 the first of these spiritual alms should be given for those of one’s own blood.
“She never said ‘thank you’ to you on this earth with her mortal mouth. But think of your future joy, when it will be your mother’s immortal soul that, on rejoining you, will say, ‘Thank you, Maria, for the true life you have given to me.’ It will be as if your mother were born of you, and for eternity.
“Leave your heart in my hands. I would like to be able to have all your poor, weak, sick, wounded, painful hearts to fortify, heal, cure, and console them.
“If only men would give Me their hearts! There would no longer be sin on earth; there would no longer be the vices which make your flesh and spirit grow ill; there would no longer be the acts of mutual cruelty which wound; there would no longer be that spasmodic pain of those who weep alone and are not understood. Giving your hearts to Me would be the salvation of the world.
“Entrust to Me your affections, your interests, your hopes, your pains, children whom I love as Myself, just as I taught you. See in Me not only the Lord, but, above all, the Friend, the Brother, Him who loves you with a perfect love, as his nature as God is perfect.
“My little disciple who suffer and listen, consider that your Master suffers more than you. Let us console one another. I am All for you, and I am holding you to my Heart.”
176 In the dictation of August 12.
177 The next day, October 4, 1943, Iside Fioravanzi, the writer’s mother, was dying. Born in Cremona in 1861, she had been a French teacher before marrying Giuseppe Valtorta, a noncommissioned officer in the cavalry, in 1893 (he was born in Mantova in 1862 and died in Viareggio in 1935). Of an authoritarian character, she was always very severe to her docile husband and only daughter.
178 In the dictation of September 13.
179 In the dictation of July 17.