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Unite Everything to the Harrowing Pains of our Dear Mama Mary





O my Jesus, what can Love not do? Love is Life, and with my love I want to give You Life; and if mine is not enough, give me Your  Love. With Your  Love, I will be able to do anything – yes, I will be able to give Life to Your  Most Holy Humanity. O my Jesus, even after Your  Death You want to show me that You Love me, prove Your  Love for me, and give me a Refuge, a Shelter, in Your  Sacred Heart. Therefore, pushed by a Supreme Force, to be assured of Your  death, a soldier rips Your  Heart open with a lance, opening a profound Wound. And You, my Love, shed the last Drops of Blood and water contained in Your enflamed Heart.

Ah, how many things does this Wound, opened by Love, tell me! And if Your Mouth is mute, Your  Heart speaks to me, and I hear It say: “My child, after I gave everything, I wanted this lance to open a Shelter for all souls inside this Heart of Mine. Opened, It will cry out to all, continuously: Come into Me if you want to be saved. In this Heart you will find Sanctity and you will make your selves saints; you will find Relief in afflictions, Strength in weakness, Peace in doubts, Company in abandonments. O souls who love Me, if you really want to love Me, come to dwell in this Heart forever.

Here you will find true Love in order to Love Me, and ardent Flames for you to be burned and consumed completely in Love. Everything is centered in this Heart: here are the Sacraments, here My Church, here the Life of My Church and the Life of all souls. In It I also feel the profanations made against My Church, the plots of the enemies, the arrows they send, and My oppressed children – there is no offense which My Heart does not feel. Therefore, My child, may Your Life be in this Heart – defend Me, repair Me, bring Me everyone into It.”

Our Lady of Sorrows for September 3My Love, if a lance has wounded Your  Heart for me, I beg that You too, with Your  own Hands, wound my heart, my affections, my desires – all of myself. Let there be nothing in me which is not wounded by Your Love. I unite everything to the harrowing pains of our dear Mama, who, for the pain of seeing Your Heart being ripped open, falls into a swoon of Sorrow and Love; and like a Dove, She flies in It to take the First Place – to be the First Repairer, the Queen of Your very Heart, the Mediatrix between You and the creatures. I too, with my Mama, want to fly into Your Heart, to hear how She Repairs, and to repeat Her Reparations for all the offenses You receive. O my Jesus, in this Wounded Heart of Yours, I will find my Life again; therefore, anything I may be about to do, I will always draw from It. I will no longer give life to my thoughts; but if these want life, I will take Yours. My will will no longer have life; but if it wants life, I will take Your Most Holy Will. My love will no longer have life; if it wants life, I will take Your Love. O my Jesus, all of Your Life is mine – this is Your Will, this is my will.

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