Faustyna Page #3

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That she just recieved Body of Christ

And royal blood is flowing through her veins.

Mother of God!

Holiest Mary!

In a special way You are now my mother,

Because Your Beloved Son is my Lover.

Therefore You have to love me.

I found out, in short time, that my offering is pleasing to God,

My Soul became full of anxiety and torments

In Heart I have uncertainity

And despair.

This is the state of poor souls which I have taken upon myself.

I fear delusion.

I fear...hallucunations, phantoms.

I will wait.

I must and I will disbelieve.

I will pray,

Think, study

I will seek counsel of wise priests,

But I will wait.

Sister Faustyna,

I've found a painter.

He will paint Lord Jesus,

Like Sister is seeing.

- Praised be Jesus Christ!

- For all eternity, Amen.

Sister,

Was Lord Jesus then...walking?

Or standing?

Please, describe.

Lord came...

In the night.

His robe was white.

One hand he was rising, for a blessing,

And with the other one he was touching the robe,

here, on the chest.

And from the opening of this robe two rays were coming

Pale one and red one.

I looked at the Lord, I looked...

And I stood silent.

I was affraid.

And I had Joy in the Soul.

Lead me, oh God, on whatever paths You please,

I gave my total trust to Your Will,

Which for me is Love and Compassion itself.

Mother!

Here, to me Sisters!

To my cell!

Sister, run quickly and get a doctor!

- There is no danger to her life.

- Thank God!

It's a sun stroke.

She's already conscious.

- She asked for a priest with holy oilments.

- Yes

- May God repay You!

- Goodbye.

Suddenly Jesus stood in front of me,

Disrobed,

Whole body covered with wounds

Eyes...

Eyes filled with blood

And tears.

Face...

Completely ruined.

And Jesus told me:

"A Lover should be like her Beloved"

I understood these words.

I want to be similar to You, Jesus!

To You crucified,

Humiliated,

Tortured,

Devastated.

She fell asleep.

Father Professor,

I don't know what's going to happen next.

She needs some kind of help.

Mother, if this an Act of God,

then we mean nothing in this case.

Is this the way we should think?

I don't know, Mother.

I honestly don't know...

I pray for Light, I read, I meditate.

What more can I do?

Nothing, Mother.

I know nothing.

Everything says it is...

God's Doing.

- A Holiday?

- Yes.

Lord Jesus was reminding about it?

It is to be celebrated on first Sunday after Easter.

The Day of Compassion.

Why a new Holiday?

Lord Jesus said, that despite His bitter sacrifice,

Many souls are still getting lost.

That's why, He wishes for this holiday to be a refuge

And a sanctuary For everyone,

Especially for the sinners.

Sister! These confessions are getting longer and longer.

Therefore during confession, please limit Yourself to reporting sins and omissions.

And the rest write in the notebook.

Write?

I can read it, lets say, once a week.

Oh God,

I'm supposed to write about the meetings of my soul with Yours?

I'm supposed to write about You - Uncomprehensible in Your Compassion?

Oh God,

Is it possible to write down with a pen that,

Which many times is underscribable?

But You tell me to write,

And that is enough for me.

"Jesus, I trust You"

Who can paint You, Lord, as Beautiful as You really are?

Mother,

Is it good to take an example from Sister Faustyna?

Mother General wrote me to seek the best of role models.

Better to take example from Mother of God!

New painting... New Holiday...

Father Professor...

Maybe it's even correct, but isn't that a wrong address?

Vilenian Metropolis should not go over Warsavian's head.

Then maybe in accordance with Warsaw, Your Excellency

will address the Holy See?

You're boiled in hot water, Father.

Who says anything about addressing?

Careful! Haste can only spoil things.

Acts of God are commencing slowly.

I'm thinking... Maybe it will somehow resolve by itself, don't You think?

Hm, yes...

Yes...

Because greatness of Church lies in its prudence.

I cannot be destroying it - it is the foundation.

I also used to be frustrated by Church's slowness,

thought nothing can be done here.

But look,

Because it is so unchangable,

It lasts!

And be attentive - EVEN THOUGH it is so unchangable,

It lasts.

You understand that?

That means we still have time.

Father hasn't seen into the Eternity yet.

I am almost already there.

The painting technically is, I think, good.

But she didn't like it.

But it beautifully speaks about God's Compassion.

It says, it the greatest of God's Attributes.

I didn't believe.

I kept thinking - where does she get it from?

It is not bringing anything new,

But it does enrich this mystery of our Faith.

And look here:

Saint Thomas,

Saint Fulgentius,

Saint Ildefons,

Oh, and here's the most - Saint Augustin comments the Psalms.

Old Fathers of the Church speak about Divine Compassion

Calling it "The Greatest of God's Attributes".

You understand?

She didn't read any of these!

It was Given to her.

But still, she did not like the painting.

She even cried.

Because the power is not in the canvas.

Behold, the King of Compassion!

After the celebration in Ostra Brama,

The painting was hidden away in a dark corridor

In the cloister of Bernardine Sisters.

After two years,

Vilenian Metropolita agreed to bless the painting

And to put it in Church of Saint Michael's,

With a condition that it can not be hanged in the altar,

Nor speak of its origin.

I understood a great truth -

God will not refuse me anything,

When I beg Him with His Son's voice.

My offering is nothing.

But when I join it with offering of Jesus,

It becomes omnipotent.

God loves us through His Son.

I beg Him,

Through bleeding hands of Jesus

Through His...

Legs covered with blood.

Through tortured head.

I feel that...

That I will lift the veil of Heaven,

So that Earth will know about Kindness of Jesus.

Sister, train Yourself in humbleness!

Please!

God... demands a new Gathering...

For...

Praying for Compassion.

For preaching it...

Should I leave?

Leave this Gathering?

To be there?

That's impossible.

Impossible!

Sister!

Sister!

Sister...

Mother Borgia!

Thank You...

Breathe.

Caugh.

If You choose to take me in my years of youth - may You be blessed.

If You will choose to make me live until old age - may You be blessed.

If You choose to give me health and strenght - may You be blessed.

If You choose to make me bedridden with pain for whole life -

May You be blessed...

It's tuberculosis.

We have to treat.

But is it possible to treat?

We have to try.

But it's already late...

I don't know if God forgave me that act from

many years ago...

I keep confessing it,

Priests tell me to have calm.

But I... can't find it.

Jesus, thank You for tests on my path.

For poor health and exhaustion.

For temptations and various experiences.

For horrors, fears and uncertainities.

For the hour of my death.

For difficulties in fighting during it.

And for all its bitterness.

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