My beloved child, I rejoice to hold you in my arms.
This is my only desire, enduring, for every person too.
Do you see, I truly desire nothing else, opening my Heart,
than to hold you here, each and all, pressing you to my breast,
carrying you, in this way, to my loving Father.
There, held in my arms, a child, a spouse,
you experience the love of the Father as I do,
you know his goodness and beauty in the same way as I.
You breathe, together with me, and him too
—indeed, allow us to breathe through you,
vibrating you through and through, thrilling your heart—
the Breath of the Spirit whom we eternally share.
I have granted you the gift of sharing, in faith,
in this mysterious communion in the depths of the soul,
yes, in the concreteness of every moment of life,
reposing already now in each day and each circumstance,
in the love for which you long in fullness at the end.
Repose here, beloved child, this is all I ask.
Allow yourself to be loved, cherished, embraced.
Nothing finds fullness of meaning outside this love,
all finds the fullness of its beauty and radiance
precisely by flowing from here and returning thus,
yes, abiding here always, never departing from this space.
And you know, child, you feel deep within,
that this loving embrace, asking nothing else,
yet awakens in your heart a yearning, expanding out in love:
that this same joyful embrace will enfold every heart too.
Thus, within the very furnace of joy, unbreakable, sure,
a fire of compassion also begins to burn.
Within the homecoming of love into the Beloved’s arms
—where you also find your deepest self, purified, restored,
blossoming from within by my own gratuitous gift,
enfolded within my mystery, my most intimate embrace—
here you also find the heart’s yearning awaken
to share this beautiful love with each and with all.
For this intimate embrace, dearly beloved,
is both a sanctuary of intimacy between you and I
—unspeakable solitude, ineffable encounter, silence of love,
where I gaze on you, the only one, ravishing my Heart—
and yet also the place where you are least solitary, alone,
for in me you find yourself drawing close, also,
to every other person, every child of God.
The fire is enkindled deep in the heart,
yes, a fire engulfing you in its embrace through every thing,
drawing you both deeper within, and thrusting you out
—two movements, really one and the same—
to immerse yourself in the Abyss of the Trinity’s embrace
and to surrender yourself in compassion for every longing heart.