Last night I wanted to observe the Hour of Mary’s Desolation, as I do every week. On Friday night I had been unable to observe it because of the very serious and sudden heart crisis, which had terrified me. Last night I set about it with fervor. But the dictations have been put in a safe place, and I thus had to act on my own.
I was successful in the First Part: Mary in the Tomb. But later, what exertion! What I wanted to meditate on contrasted with the luminosity and festiveness of the morning vision. But beyond the three dismal crosses which my spirit contemplated with Her on the summit of Calvary in the evening twilight, I saw the Mother, asleep and blissful, rising into Heaven, with the fragrant lightness of a large bouquet of white roses borne by the angels to God. And tears and blood were canceled out by smiles and the whiteness of petals....
Just like that! It looked to me like a heap of petals stripped from roses, a cloud of rose petals ascending to Heaven.
And I was not able to continue the meditation. The Mother, who sees I am too sorrowful, did not want more tears from me. She is good...! I dozed off the in the contrast between my wanting to meditate on her sorrow and her wanting to have me contemplate her joy.