I do not know how I 'move' from one point to another. I mean 'move' in
the physical sense that we in our earthly life understand it. When the
interior vision begins, I am no longer in the garden of the tomb. I have
returned to the small, cloister-like cell in the house of the Last Super
where the Blessed Mother keeps her constant vigil.
She has returned to her knees, her eyes riveted upon the Image of the
Suffering Face of Jesus, her Divine Son. She has her hands crossed upon
her breast; her head is bent slightly to the right. I wonder, no, ponder
upon her thoughts, and I am given to understand that she remembers in
infinite detail every moment of her Divine Son's Passion.
At each sacred moment of this infinitely valuable suffering, she offers
praise to the Father, and being filled with the Holy Spirit, says from her
pure heart, "O Father, Thy Will be done, always. I thank You, O Word of
God. I bless You and adore You for perfectly fulfilling the Will of the
Father. I adore each of Your holy steps. I praise You for Your joy in
suffering. I kiss each of Your holy steps. I offer thanksgiving for every
drop of sweat, every drop of blood, every insult, and injury. For the
unspeakable tortures You endured, and which Your poor Mother has suffered
in union with You in her soul. O, Merciful Gatherer, Who has loved man from
all eternity, let that sacred moment come. Let the darkness be dispelled
that the faith of those whom You have chosen may be forever strengthened.
Permit, O most Holy Trinity, that the will if man may be Your Will alone.
Teach men that each moment lived in Your Will weakens, destroys the evil
one. Let Your Glory be revealed according to Your Will. Relieve the
sorrows of the Mother's heart, which willingly gives to You, all thanks on
behalf of all men."
Her beautiful prayer of love and petition is finished. And in that very
moment, the entire room is filled with the very same resplendent light,
which issued forth from the tomb and encased, surrounded, and emanated from
our Risen Savior's body. It is more beautiful than words can utter. It is
not a stagnant light, but a living light, which envelops, enfolds, engulfs,
and transforms. Unlike the Roman soldiers asleep in the garden of the
tomb, Mary is truly penetrated by this Heavenly Light.
She, Our Blessed Mother, turns, still upon her knees. She is radiantly
beautiful, for she, too, now filled with this light, emanates it back to
The Mother's cry of joyful welcome, of a heart mended of its sorrows, of
hope seen, lived, touched, known. Only then am I able by God's own grace,
to look in the direction of the Blessed Mother. I behold in the very
center of the room the risen Christ, my beloved Jesus Who is so resplendent
as to be unutterably beautiful, causing heart and soul to swell in such
ecstasy of love that were it not God who sustained me, I am certain my
heart would burst and my soul would rush to His embrace.
"Mother, the Father has heard your prayers. All the while I have heard
your beautiful prayers. Behold, most Holy Mother, I come to you, the first
among all created beings. I come to give you anew My Love, My Peace, My
Joy! The great trial has passed."
"O! My Beloved Son, may the Most High God be forever praised. Thank You
for being so merciful to one so lowly. Truly, You are part of my heart.
"As you have always been part of Mine. I have not yet returned to the
Father, Mother, but you have seen and witnessed that which your faith never
faltered in. May the Father embrace you, His Holy Daughter, and give unto
you every grace and consolation."
"His Will only, my Son! Now and always."
"Do not go to the tomb with the other women. Remain here in prayer, for
they, too, will witness, each in their own way, the power and glory of God.
The victory is won, My Mother!"
"I will pray. My soul goes wherever You go, my Son, unless You command
otherwise. Can a mother ever be parted from her son?"
Though they have not touched, Jesus moves forward. He is not standing on
the floor, but perhaps in inch above it. He is fully present. This is no
phantom, or illusion. He is truly three-dimensional and the light pours
forth from the wounds to His hands, feet, and side.
He allows His Holy Mother to gaze upon these wounds, which she does with
such holy reverence that were we able to see how humbly, how purely she
adores her Divine Son, we could but weep over our tepidity, our coldness,
our lack of good will.
For a while they gaze at each other, the Mother and the Son, the Risen
Savior. No more words are spoken and the conversation of Their souls is
hidden from my heart.
It is more than I could ever dare to hope for, but to see interiorly the
reunion of Mary and Jesus after the Passion, the love between Them…His
Sacred Heart and her Immaculate Heart is of such chaste purity that it is a
living love which causes the light to continually grow brighter, until it
appears to me that Our Blessed Mother is lost within the light, gathered up
into into a higher realm of ecstasy from which all human eyes are kept lest
the finiteness of the human thinking make jest of such supernatural love.
Then, abruptly, Jesus is gone. The room is dark, lit by a small candle,
which has nearly burned out. I can not tell you how Jesus came, or by
which manner He left. I am given to understand that in eternity where the
human body is no longer subject to the natural laws of nature, movement ads
we understand it is irrevelant. That in the eternal life of the soul and
the eternal life to which our bodies will be called upon the day of Final
Judgment, then we shall clearly understand the magnificence of the Spirit.
Were our faith the size of a mustard seed our very souls could be moved in
this supernatural, eternal air and we would be lifted out of and above our
heavy bodies so as to live in the Will of God!
Mary, our Heavenly Mother, remains bowed in prayer, but I am privileged to
see that from her whole being radiates a light that throbs with each beat
of her Immaculate Heart.