I complain to the Mother, saying, “But in this way I can no longer think of you. I write and write and write... and then remain as if dead, unable to say even a Hail Mary. You see this: I am left with the rosary in my hand. Precisely now, when I wanted to offer you increased company, on these Lenten and Passion Fridays! ”
I get a very clear reply: “It doesn’t matter. You sing the Gospel of his Passion and weep over his pain and accompany Him therein. And you thus dry my tears much more than if you accompanied me directly. Daughter of the Heavenly Jerusalem, weep over the sins of the world and bless the Lord, who wanted you to be sterile, lacking human joy, in order to receive the glory of being the ‘little John.’ Along with me say, ‘I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let it be done to me as He wills.’ I bless you and do not detain you. I shall await you on the way to Calvary. Go.”