A Sign of Grace


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    A Sign of Grace Empty A Sign of Grace

    Post by Poem on Thu Oct 20, 2011 10:12 pm

    Notebook: 1945
    Page: 385
    Chp: A Sign of Grace

    April 10, 1947

    Jesus says to write down what follows here:

    “Young Guilio Pierotti, one of my neighbors, who had returned from prison a few months before, having developed an intestinal carcinoma which had been identified inadequately and too late, was operated on, in a last attempt, on February 18, 1947. But since the tumor was seen to be too widespread to be removed, the incision was closed, leaving the cancer to complete its work..

    On the morning of the operation, since the young man and his mother had begged for my prayers, I ardently complied. And Jesus then replied to me (at 7am on February 18th): “Not his body. Pray for his spirit and commend it to Me.”

    I understood, before finding out the result of the futile operation—performed more to diagnose than to heal—that he would not improve even temporarily, and I then replied to the Lord, ‘Thy will be done. But if it is your will that the young man should die, give me a sign that my prayers will obtain eternal life for him.’

    The Lord said to me, ‘What sign do you request, soul of mine?’

    “If he dies in your grace and enters into your Kingdom, that this should take place on either the Feast of St. Joseph or, even better—I would be really certain concerning his dying in peace—on Good Friday, between the sixth and the ninth hour.’

    It seemed that the young man was to die a few days after the operation, before the end of February. He lived, however, still very ill, ever more so, devoured by cancer, covered with wounds, already a corpse in all respects except intellectually, resigned to his suffering, and often nourished by the Eucharist, until Good Friday. At noon he went into a conscious agony. Ten minutes before 3pm he gently breathed his last. He had spoken until a few minutes before, saying good-bye to the sisters at the hospital he was leaving in order to die at home—where he in fact died as soon as he arrived.

    As opposed to what generally happens with such unbearable diseases, his face possessed an impressive peace; his body, which had been covered with sores for over a month, did not give off either a stench or pus during the twenty-seven hours in which it remained on the funeral couch; and his face was not at all blemished. All of those who had taken care of him and were familiar with his decline and agony were left astonished at this appearance of peace and this halting of all decomposition.

    Just to be truthful. As for me, I feel great peace in regard to him, for I received the sign that young Giulio Pierotti, after a life that was always tormented because of family problems and warfare (seven years, between war and prison), is in the joy of God, having died in his grace.

    Peace be with you always

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