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I continue in the same state, but this morning especially, it was most bitter for me; I had almost lost the hope that Jesus would come. Oh, how many tears I had to shed! It was the very last hour, and Jesus was still not coming. Oh! God, what to do? My heart was in such a strong pain, and continuous throbbing - but so strong, that I felt a mortal agony. In my interior I said to Him: ‘My good Jesus, don’t You Yourself see that I feel life missing in me? Tell me at least: how can one be without You? How can one live? Though I am ungrateful at so many graces, yet I love You, as I offer You this most bitter pain of your absence to repair for my ingratitude. But come – have patience, Jesus. You are so good, don’t make me wait any more – come. Ah, don’t You Yourself know what a cruel tyrant love is, that You don’t have compassion for me?’
While I was in this state, so sorrowful, Jesus came and, all compassion, told me: "I have come now, do not cry any more – come to Me." In one instant I found myself outside of myself together with Him, and I looked at Him, but with such fear that I might lose Him again, that tears would pour in large streams from my eyes. Jesus continued: "No, do not cry any more. Take a look at how I am suffering; look at my head – the thorns have penetrated so deep that they no longer show outside. Do you see how many gashes and blood cover my body? Come close to Me, give me a refreshment."
By occupying myself with the pains of Jesus, I forgot about my own a little bit, and so I started from His head. Oh, how harrowing it was to see those thorns so sunk into His flesh that one could not pull them out. While I was doing that, Jesus would lament, so great was the pain He suffered. After I pulled that crown of thorns off, all broken, I put it together again, and knowing that the greatest pleasure one can give Jesus is to suffer for Him, I took it and I drove it onto my head. Then, He had me kiss His wounds, one by one, and in some of them He wanted me to suckle the blood. I was trying to do everything He wanted, though in mute silence, when the Most Holy Virgin came and told me: "Ask Jesus what He wants to make of you."
I would not dare, but Mama encouraged me to do it. To make Her content, I drew my lips near the ear of Jesus, and in a whisper I said to Him: "What do You want to make of me?’ And He answered: "I want to make of you an object of my satisfactions"; and in the very act of saying these words, He disappeared, and I found myself inside myself.
