Alexandrina de Balasar



— 38 —


November 27

The day dawned beautiful, but for my soul it was sad, very sad. What awful darkness! Woeful memories tormented me. The feelings of the soul, stubborn, would not let me settle down:  new developments were in the offing.

When the parish priest gave me Jesus, I looked to see if he moved his lips to tell me something, and my soul felt it: there was something new.

For some days I have been hiding the misgivings I have had, indicating only, when I dictated, a faint idea of what I felt; I acted in this way not to hurt my sister. I suffered in silence, staring at Jesus and Mary, relying upon them alone.

The parish priest said nothing. I thanked Jesus coldly, though I wanted to burn with love to the point that I died for love of Jesus.

Time went by and I continually in deep sorrow and bitterness. My God, I would die for everyone.

The first Friday and the first Saturday are coming, two days in which You speak to me.

There are many souls who know nothing of this devastation and yet love You, and are holy! And I, my Jesus, what misery! Could I love You and be able to ignore it. Ah, if I had the will! But I don’t have it, my Jesus, nor want to have it.

For me it's a hard torment when Jesus gives me messages for other people. He has given them for some people, not many. I am only able to tell them in writing but, if for some reason I have to tell them directly, I do it with enormous sacrifice. Unless it is necessary, I never say: Listen to what the lord has said... or phrases like that. Even with my sister I do not take this liberty. I cannot. I am ashamed.

When Our Lord makes abjections  about some people, without naming their names, I'm so reticent about dictating them. I want to hide them, I want to make little of them, as when He uses words to praise me.

What shame, my Jesus. Only You can know and assess how much all this makes me suffer.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, I heard footsteps; without seeing anyone, knew it was the parish priest. When I saw him alone, without any visitors to present, I knew the time had arrived to learn of the new development. He entered my room and sat beside me. He began by asking me who my director was, etc. Then he told me:

— I am doing this because it is required of me. It pains me, but have patience. This is how it has to be until further orders are given, until the ban it is lifted. You cannot confess again to Fr Umberto. I cannot allow him to bring you our Lord unless he brings written permission from the Archbishop.

I replied calmly:

— Let´s obey, Rev. Father. Praise be to God, blessed be He!

He asked me if I knew why Fr. Umberto had come here. I replied that I did not.

— But is he your director?

— I confessed to him two or three times.

After reflecting I realized it had been at least four, but I had not intended to deceive.

— Normally I would not do it, but I saw that he understood my soul very well, and I went to confession. But my confessor, Rev. Fr. Alberto and Your Reverence know well that I confessed to him.

— But is he your director?

— He has directed me. But he said he didn’t want to interfere with the work of others.

This was, my director, Rev. Fr Pinho and my confessor, Rev. Fr Alberto, and I thought he knew well that I had confessed to him.

The parish priest, full of charity for me, said:

— He can come here and visit, and direct you in writing.

After the interrogation, he withdrew. Then someone in my family came into my room to ask what was news I had received. I replied, smiling:

— Little gifts of Jesus.

I kept smiling because the whole time I was questioned I felt in myself such a great strength that I could receive everything with resignation and joy. I felt so strong that it seemed there could be no swords, arrows or thorns that could hurt me. This strength lasted a short time. I still was able to give my sister a few words of comfort with it:

— Do not worry, if God (is) for us who can be against us? Jesus is worthy of all our love! Let it be all for souls!

Little by little I was fainting under the weight of pain, my heart failed me twice, I seemed to lose my life. A few tears of resignation fell down my face: I offered them to Jesus as acts of love.

My God, by your grace I'm not attached to anything in the world, nor to creatures, what I want is to receive Thee, my Jesus, but it is not important to me if you come to me by means of this or that priest. You are always the same Jesus, You are always the longed-for One of my soul.

It is true that who would understand it needs light. They take everything away from me! Let Thy will be done! You stay with me, my Jesus, and that is enough.

The doctor came to me, I unburdened myself to him. He encouraged me a lot, as always. In bidding farewell, he told me:

— So, are you full of courage?

— I am, yes, Doctor. I have the heart to suffer,  if only I also had the heart to love!...

I said so because I feel I don’t have the heart to love my Jesus and I want to die of love for Him.

At the end of the day, I prayed the Magnificat twice; it was in gratitude to my Jesus for giving me a full day of his little gifts, for giving me more ways to console Him and give Him proof of my love for Him and for souls.

— I felt, my Jesus, that the proofs of my love do not stop here. Come what may, be with me always. I trust, I trust, I hope in You.


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