As I wait for light from the Lord, I obey his command, which I was previously unable to carry out. For seven days now I have passionately thanked the Lord for the grace of coming back which He has granted me.826
Since October 11 I, the impatient one, had slain the impatience which Jesus does not like and, though I longed only to return, I had completely renounced every act which would have hastened it for me. I was told the following: “Jesus says, ‘Do not be impatient. Consult Me to know when the time has come,’ and I will no longer be impatient and will wait for everything from Him.” I even seemed indifferent to going back, and they may have thought I was unstable since they saw I was so calm. Many must have thought that, after having said the worst about St. Andrea, I had finally grown fond of it to the point that I was not in a hurry to leave. For goodness’ sake! I would have gone away crawling on the ground like a snake. But Jesus had spoken in that way, and I waited. I felt I was dying in that chill, in that solitude, and in that muddle.... It looks like an antithesis. But that’s the way it was - solitude, for my soul was alone; a muddle, for I no longer had occasion to pray in peace, write, and be with Jesus, except at night. But I was silent - indeed, I restrained the hurry of other people. And I sang... so as not to weep, so as not to arrive at desolation and not make it come upon me on all sides, as it was in ambush on all sides and in all things.
Then, on the morning of Friday, the 22nd, there was a sudden decline in moral strength and a profound weakening, as I had not experienced in months. How I cried that Friday morning! I cried and beseeched Jesus, Mary, and all my saints.... I was really desolate. To overcome that tremendous hour I took the sheaf of pages on Mary’s birth and childhood to correct it. And my tears were dried on seeing her smile as a child.
Then, at 11:30, Father Fantoni came827... along with the joy of returning. It made me choke. I could not eat. My fever rose more than usual. I worked more than a healthy person to pack suitcases. I spoke and wrote until midnight, and my soul sang, “Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Mary. Thank you, my saints, thank you, thank you!” A thanksgiving which I still repeat unceasingly - even while I sleep, I think - for I wake up saying, “Thank You, my God.”
And then the moment of departure... and the moment of arrival. To see my house.... I foresaw that my nerves would be shattered. I have always foreseen this. And I was not mistaken. Shattered to the point that, like a bitter river in a lake of honey, waves and waves of pain, of all the pain I have had in this house, of all the pain from being torn away from it, and of all the pain in that terrible exile, and also the memories of past days, the deaths of my mother and father... and so many, many other things... all fell upon my heart together, a heart which was already exhausted by excessively intense joy, and I wept and wept and wept for twenty-four hours without being able to restrain myself.
There now remains only the great peace of being here. It is as if the house were embracing me... and, along with the house, my dead loved ones, and I with them I rediscover “my” little Paradise, lost in April, and all of them return, as then. And all of them for me.
I call this the house of my love, and it is. Here I have loved God, knowing Him more and more, to the point of my current knowledge as his spokesman. Here I received his first caresses, which marked me, I believe, even organically. Here I learned to love the Mother as She should be loved. Here I became the little John.828 And now Jesus has consecrated it for me by calling it the “house of Nazareth.”
Oh, God! This joy is too great, and I don’t know what to give You to repay You for it! And, along with You, what to give to those who in your name and out of love for You, together with so much charity towards me, have brought me such joy. I am able to give only love, obedience, and prayer. And You do the rest because You are the King.
In addition, what adds a special savor to this matter is your goodness, which had said to me ten days before, “In ten days you will be....” I would have been blessed because of your goodness and that of my Father, so longed for, and that of the sweet, fraternal soul of Sister Gabriella....829 My St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus wrote, “Many things in this life will not be read on earth.” I, too, say so: many things will be written in Heaven and noted up above. And this charity of two good people will be written in God’s heart. Where it will not be erased and from which a reward will come. Blessed be they and He who formed them: God, our Lord.830
826 She is referring to her return to Viareggio after the period of evacuation.
827 A priest with the Servants of Mary who during the evacuation maintained ties between the writer and Father Migliorini.
828 See note 76
829 A Stigmatine Sister in Camaiore, previously encountered on June 22.
830 The entry for December 31 contains the episode involving “The Miracle of the Broken Blade at the Fish Gate,” found in the cycle on The First Year of the Public Life.