Alexandrina de Balasar

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BLESSED ALEXANDDRINAíS WRITINGS
― 8 ―

A letter to Jesus

Sentiments of a Soul opens with this letter, dated19th February 1942. It is a vibrant document, perfectly composed, written as a consequence of Fr Pinhoís recent departure and certainly collected by Fr Umberto in 1944. It is a cry rising from the midst of a storm. But the nobility, the touch of excellence in the sentiments expressed, Alexandrinaís unlimited trust in Jesus and her determination are as strong as always.

From now on, we will use the great generosity of the Official Websiteís collaborators (Alphonse Rocha, Yolanda Astrid, Leo Madigan and Hugo Rafael) to translate, monthly, one or two pages of The Sentiments of a Soul. To translate them fully is task beyond the scope of this project. But it will be an asset, when some institution takes up the translation of this document, to have this initial endeavour to hand.

Balasar, 19th February, 1942.

My good Jesus

I feel that my heart is torn in pieces by pain. Have You further blows to inflict on me? May your will be done. Nailed on the cross with You, dripping blood and in great agony, I see myself and I feel that I am abandoned by everybody. I canít live in the world. I am afraid.

Jesus, come quickly, come, take me to Heaven. Men try to distract me, always pulling out from under me anything that could relieve me or give me comfort. They took my spiritual father, they forbade him to write to me, and me to write to him. Let me, at least, my Beloved, find relief with You. I am alone in the middle of a storm which shows no sign of abating.

I open my poor heart to You, only You know how to read what is written on it with pain and blood, only You can understand and evaluate my suffering. The world doesnít know how to, men donít understand anything. Let me repeat to You what You said to your Eternal Father:

"Forgive them, my Jesus, because they know not what they do!" They are blind, the divine light fails to reach them: enlighten them all and give all of them Your love.

O Jesus, all my forebodings have been right. Can they still forbid me to receive You in the Sacrament? O my God, that would be the last straw, that would take my life if You, with your divine power, didnít preserve it.

They may say what they say, and do whatever they do, but they will never be able to deprive me of this intimate union with You.

To steal Jesus in the Eucharist from me, yes, I have no doubt that they wish to do that; to take the richest of treasures that I love, that I love above all things, the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, never, never the will men achieve that: to do that they would need to arrange that I lived without a heart and without a soul.

Impossible! Let the whole power of the world come, may be all of it against me: but will such a power separate me from this infinite greatness, from this infinite love? Never! Only sin, only that can do such thing.

But I fully trust in You; it is from You, my Jesus, that I hope for everything, however there is a feeling in my soul that almost persuades me that I am mistaken: I feel that I donít feel You, I feel that I canít expect anything from You because of my awful misery.

How great is my confusion! How great is my faintheartedness!

Arise me, my Jesus, help me, nailed as You are to the cross, help me to climb up all the painful way to the Calvary. On each step I climb I want to leave this written with the blood that runs from my wounds:

It is for Jesus that I suffer, it is to give to Him souls that I walk here!

Jesus, Jesus, I donít see Heaven, all that blue sky hides from me, I have lost it, they stole from me everything that was life. I only feel pain, I only feel and see death. I donít have anyone I can appeal to: I can only call on You and my Heavenly Mother.

Poor me! How many times in my pain have I not dared to look at You!

Hear me always, even if I do not call You; ask my Heavenly Mother to help me, give me all the strength of Heaven!

Every sound I hear reminds me of my dear spiritual father. Will he come? What a life of illusion!

All the thoughts that come to my mind during this awful suffering are arrows which pierce my heart, they are scourges which tear my body and my soul to pieces. What wrong did I do, what crime did I commit?

O my Jesus, if it was not for your love, if it was not the burning wish of saving souls for You, I would refuse everything. I wanted to love You very much, never to offend You, to gain Heaven, but I didnít want the crucifixion, I did not want to hear your sweet and tender voice on the earth, I didnít wish to see your divine Image, either painful or glorious: I had all eternity to contemplate You and to hear You speaking.

Forgive me my confidences, Jesus. You see that only with You am I able to unburden myself.

Since You chose me for pain, since you appointed me for such a martyrdom, here I am your victim, your slave; Jesus, do with me what You will.

Your blessing, my Beloved. Ask my Heavenly Mother to bless me and protect me. I am your most unworthy daughter,

poor Alexandrina

 

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