I am in the little room where our Blessed Mother is in prayer. Absolute
radiance pours from her, lighting the room in a supernatural glow. She
rises from her knees and turns to me. A look of such love. A true Mother.
She, too, has suffered all so that we, all of her children, might forever
enjoy the Glory that God has promised to all who love Him.
I want to run to her, fall upon my knees and ask her help, because with
each passing moment, and during the times of these interior visions, I
recognize very clearly my wretchedness. I see the pride, the
self-righteousness, and the many uncharitable thoughts and words which have
passed through my mind and lips.
But she holds out her hand and invites me to come and stand beside her. I
find I move and I lay my imperfect hand into her Immaculate one. I am not
afraid, only filled with a peace, joy, and love that defies all human words.
She speaks to me. "My child, I wish you to be always near me so I can
hold you against my heart. I will show to you now that which Scripture
tells, for my children everywhere must know that all Scripture is Truth.
Yet all the wonders my Divine Son gave to mankind could not be contained in
all the books ever w written. They must see as you will see that my Risen
Son was generous beyond measure in allowing many to see Him, to recognize
Him as the Man and as God, that the Gospel message might take deep root and
I am within her embrace and I am aware of neither time nor place. I look
where she looks and see interiorly that which I will now attempt to
describe. May God forgive my inability to do justice to that which I must
put in human terms, and may the Holy Spirit fill in any gaps my finite
being might leave.
I see Peter and John in the room where the Apostles are gathered. They
are in animated conversation. But the other Apostles, fighting their own
human wills are still uncertain. The body of the Master is gone. Risen?
O! They truly want to believe, but the nagging doubt remains, "What if the
body was stolen?"
Suddenly I am at Lazarus' estate in Bethany. I pass swiftly through the
house where more Apostles and many disciples are gathered. I see Mary of
Magdala in their mist repeating for them all that she did, saw, and heard,
and I hear the exclamations of these faithful ones who desperately want to
believe, who even wish they had been in Mary's place.
But I move on. Martha, Lazarus' sister/house-keeper is hurrying along a
clean corridor, giving instructions to servants to prepare food for their
guests. She does so lovingly, but as one accustomed to managing such large
affairs. She appears at peace, but keeps looking toward the large room
where her sister is speaking and her sharp ears hear enough to satisfy her
own heart. "He is risen, as He said!"
I move outdoors, to the garden where Jesus often sat in silence to pray
and meditate. I see Lazarus, who is seated upon the stone bench where only
a few days ago Jesus sat, praying to fulfill the Father's Will in His Passion.
Lazarus' eyes are half-closed. He looks tired, but yet at peace. He does
not stir and thus is startled to hear his name called.
His eyes open. He is peering into the bright light of full day.
"Lazarus," comes the familiar voice again. Now Lazarus gets up, straining
to see who calls him, wondering if it is one of the Apostles.
He takes several steps forward where there is an interplay o light and
shade as sunlight filters between leafy trees. He stops abruptly. He can
see the figure of a man in front of him.
You call me. Your voice…."
"Lazarus, you are My faithful friend. You have worked hard to do the
Father's Will. I could do no less than come to you. Arise, Lazarus, look
As Lazarus stands up, Jesus permits His faithful friend to see Him in all
of His Eternal Glory.