November 15th
Jesus says:
"The Father looks upon you. As a little bird is warm and safe under the attentive care of parents, so are you under the eye of God who looks at you with love. Think that you are sheltered, warmed, nourished by Love.
Eternal God, our Father, is upon you. See and feel this force that spreads over you from the heavens above, this smile that fills you with supernatural joy, this light that warms and guides you. You need to see it in your mind's eye in order to make it your daily bread.
You will be given another food. And very bitter. But this one will so nourish your spirit that it will make the bitterness unable to kill you."
While I was correcting the typed pages, I suddenly received this communication. I had it at times when I was reading pages that were not at all pleasant or personal to me. They were dictations of a general and tremendous severity. And at the same time I had the intellectual vision of the "love of the Father".
I say "love of the Father" because I could not say that I have seen the Eternal Father as I see the Son: humanly. But I have also seen him. And if at one time, speaking of Mary Most Holy 185 I said that I saw Mary's spiritualized body as an emanation of light in the light, but always in the form of a body, now I could say that I saw an immense Light, of an incomparable joy, from which an idea of a face transpired. I say: idea, because it was as if the immense light veiled it with layers and layers of radiance to make me able to see it with my poor human eye.
A face stretched over me and two arms extended as if to protect or embrace me. Nothing more. That something I could glimpse was of incomparable beauty. The living look of an eternal youth and at the same time infused with a dignity of mature age and a kindness of an old man's look. The countenance, too, was majestic, but without signs of old age or excessive youth. A perfect face in age and form.
Poor words of mine, what pity you give me for your inadequacy to describe!
What, moreover, is absolutely indescribable is what my Jesus calls "the laughter" of the Father. It is a movement that has no voice, but which has in it the most consoling words. And I, just like a little bird that up to that moment was trembling with loneliness and fear, with cold and weakness, feel myself penetrated by it, warmed and reassured.
Blessed be the Most High who allows me to understand His most holy paternity towards the poor creature that I am.
Valtorta Notebooks 1943