Friday, September 18, 2015

NOVENA TO OUR LADY OF LA SALETTE - EIGHTH DAY



    The Apparition 

The evening of the 19th of September, we went back down a little earlier than usual. When I arrived at my master’s farm, I was busy tying up my cows and tidying up in the stable, and had not yet finished when my mistress came up to me in tears and said:

         “Why, my child, why didn't you come and tell me what happened on the mountain?”

         Maximin, not having found his masters who were still at work, had come over to mine and recounted everything he had seen and heard. I replied:

         “I did want to tell you, but I wanted to get my work finished first.” A moment later, I walked over to the house and my mistress said to me:

         “Tell me what you have seen. De Bruite, the shepherd (that was the nick name of Pierre Selme, Maximin's master), has told me everything.”

         I began, and towards the middle of the account, my master arrived back from the fields. My mistress, who was in tears at hearing the complaints and threats of our sweet Mother, said: “Ah!  You were going to harvest the wheat tomorrow (Sunday).  Take great care. Come and hear what happened today to this child and Pierre Selme's shepherd-boy.” And turning to me, she said:

         “Repeat everything you have said.”

         I started again, and when I had finished, my master said:

         “It was the Holy Virgin or else a great saint, who has come on behalf of the Good Lord, but it’s as if the Good Lord had come Himself. We must do what this Saint said. How are you going to manage to tell that to all Her people?”

         I replied:

         “You tell me how I must go about it, and I will do it.” Then, looking at his mother, wife, and brother, he added:

         “I'll have to think about that”. Then everyone went back to their business.

         After supper, Maximin and his masters came over to see my masters and to recount what Maximin had told them, and decide what was to be done.

         “For”, they said, “it seems to us that it was the Holy Virgin sent by the Good Lord.  The words which She spoke convince us of this.  And she told them to pass it on to all of Her people. Perhaps these children will have to travel the world over to make it known that everyone must observe the commandments of the Good Lord, lest great misfortunes come upon us.”

         After a moment's silence, my master said to Maximin and me:

         “Do you know what you must do, my children? Tomorrow, you must get up early and both of you go and see the priest and tell him everything you have seen and heard.  Tell him carefully how it all happened. He will tell you what you have to do.”

         The 20th of September, the day after the Apparition, I left early in the morning with Maximin. When we reached the presbytery, I knocked at the door. The priest's housekeeper came and opened the door and asked us what we wanted. I said to her (in French, and I, who had never spoken French),

         “We would like to speak to Father Perrin.”

         “And what have you got to say to him?” she asked.

         “We wish to tell him, Miss, that yesterday we went up to watch over our cows on Baisses Mountain and after dinner, etc...etc.” We recounted a good piece of the Most Holy Virgin’s words.  Then the church-bell rang: it was the final call for Mass. Father Perrin, the parish priest of La Salette, who had heard us, flung open his door; he was in tears and was beating his chest. He said to us:

         “My children, we are lost, God will punish us. Oh! Good Lord! It was the Holy Virgin who appeared to you!” And he left to say Holy Mass.  We looked at each other, Maximin, the housekeeper, and I. Then Maximin said to me:

         “Me, I’m off home to my father in Corps”, and we parted company.

 As my masters had not told me to return to work immediately after speaking to Father Perrin, I saw no harm in going to Mass. And so I was in church. Mass begins and after the first reading from the Gospel, Father Perrin turns to the congregation and tries to recount to his parishioners, the story of the Apparition which had just taken place, the day before, on one of their mountains, and he urges them to stop working on Sundays.  His voice was broken with sobs, and all the congregation was greatly moved. After Holy Mass, I went back to my masters to work.  Mr. Peytard, who still today is the mayor of La Salette 6 came to question me on the Apparition, and when he had made sure that I was speaking the truth, he went away convinced.

         I stayed on in the service of my masters until All Saint's Day. Then I was boarded with the nuns of Providence, in my home town of Corps.
 The Most Holy Virgin was tall and well-proportioned.  She seemed so light that a mere breath could have stirred Her, yet She was motionless and perfectly balanced.  Her face was majestic, imposing, but not imposing in the manner of the Lords here below. She compelled a respectful fear. At the same time as Her Majesty compelled respect mingled with love, She drew me to Her.  Her gaze was soft and penetrating.  Her eyes seemed to speak to mine, but the conversation came out of a deep and vivid feeling of love for this ravishing beauty who was liquefying me.  The softness of Her gaze, Her air of incomprehensible goodness made me understand and feel that she was drawing me to Her and wanted to give Herself. It was an expression of love which cannot be expressed with the tongue of the flesh, nor with the letters of the alphabet.

         The clothing of the Most Holy Virgin was silver white and quite brilliant.  It was quite intangible. It was made up of light and glory, sparkling and dazzling.  There is no expression nor comparison to be found on earth.

         The Holy Virgin was all beauty and all love; the sight of Her overwhelmed me.  In her finery as in Her person, everything radiated the majesty, the splendour, the magnificence of a Queen beyond compare.  She seemed as white, immaculate, crystallized, dazzling, heavenly, fresh and new as a Virgin. The word LOVE seemed to slip from Her pure and silvery lips. She appeared to me like a good Mother, full of kindness, amiability, of love for us, of compassion and mercy.

         The crown of roses which She had placed on Her head was so beautiful, so brilliant, that it defies imagination. The different coloured roses were not of this earth; it was a joining together of flowers which crowned the head of the Most Holy Virgin.  But the roses kept changing and replacing each other, and then, from the heart of each rose, there shone a beautiful entrancing light, which gave the roses a shimmering beauty. From the crown of roses there seemed to arise golden branches and a number of little flowers mingled with the shining ones. The whole thing formed a most beautiful diadem, which alone shone brighter than our earth's sun.

         The Holy Virgin had a most pretty cross hanging round Her neck. This cross seemed golden, (I say golden rather than gold-plated, for I have sometimes seen objects which were golden with varying shades of gold, which had a much more beautiful effect on my eyes than simple gold-plate).  On this shining, beautiful cross, there was a Christ; it was Our Lord on the Cross. Near both ends of the cross there was a hammer, and at the other end, a pair of tongs. The Christ was skin-colored, but He shone dazzlingly; and the light shone forth from His holy body seemed like brightly shining darts which pierced my heart with the desire to melt inside Him. At times, the Christ appeared to be dead. His head was bent forward and His body seemed to give way, as if about to fall, had He not been held back by the nails which held him to the Cross.

         I felt a deep compassion and would have liked to tell His unknown love to the whole world, and to let seep into mortal souls the most heartfelt love and gratitude towards a God who had no need whatsoever of us to be everything He is, was and always will be. And yet, O love that men cannot understand, He made Himself man, and wanted to die, yes, die, so as to better inscribe in our souls and in our memory, the passionate love He has for us! Oh, how wretched am I to find myself so poor in my expression of the love of our good Saviour for us!  But, in another way, how happy we are to be able to feel more deeply that which we cannot express!

         At other times, the Christ appeared to be alive. His head was erect, His eyes open, and He seemed to be on the cross of His own accord. At times too, He appeared to speak: He seemed to show that He was on the cross for our sake, out of love for us, to draw us to His love, and that He always has more love to give us, that His love in the beginning and in the year 33 is always that of today and will be for ever more.

         The Holy Virgin was crying nearly the whole time she was speaking to me. Her tears flowed gently, one by one, down to her knees, then, like sparks of light, they disappeared.  They were glittering and full of love.  I would have liked to comfort Her and stop Her tears. But it seemed to me that She needed the tears to show better Her love forgotten by men. I would have liked to throw myself into Her arms and say to Her:

         “My kind Mother, do not cry! I want to love you for all men on earth.” But she seemed to be saying to me:

         “There are so many who know me not!”



EIGHTH DAY

O loving Mother, how vividly real do the secrets of thy maternal heart appear in thy merciful Apparition! How greatly they increase and strengthen my confidence in thee! O amiable Mother, how mercifully thou bearest the rebukes encountered in thy endeavors to bring back to God the hearts of thy erring children. One may remain deaf to the call of thy love and engaging goodness; but he will yield to thy tears. For the tears of a mother go straight to the heart and melt it. But, as regards those whose hardened hearts despise even thy tears, thou hast awful threats and terrible chastisements in store for them. Yet, even then, how much like those of a mother are thy reproofs and punishments! With one hand thou strikest, while with the other thou upholdest. Even when we go astray, thy watchful and maternal eyes
follow us in the minutest details of life, to detect the slightest good sentiments of our hearts, in order to reward them. Who would not strive to inflame every heart with love and respect for thee?

Practice
Speak to one of your friends and acquaintances of Our Lady of La
Salette.



No comments:

Post a Comment