22nd August 1944.
I see the inside of a house. In it
there is an elderly woman sitting at a loom. I would say, noting that
her hair, which formerly was certainly jet black, is now quite grey
and her face, though not wrinkled, has the gravity that comes with
age, that she must be fifty-five years old. Not more .In estimating a
woman's age, I found my calculations upon my mother's face, whose
image is more than ever present to me in these times which remind me
of her final days at my bedside... The day after tomorrow it will be
a year since I had my last look at her... My mother had a very
youthful face, but was prematurely grey. When she was fifty she was
as grey as at the end of her life. But, apart from the maturity of
her appearance, nothing betrayed her age. I could therefore be
mistaken in estimating the age of an elderly woman.
The woman I see weaving in a room,
bright with the light coming from a door wide open on to a large
garden - a small holding I would call it because it smoothly extends
up and down a green slope- the woman is beautiful in her definite
Jewish features. Her eyes are black and deep and while I do not know
why, they remind me of the Baptist's. But, although they are as proud
as the eyes of a queen, they are also sweet, as if a veil of blue had
been laid on the flash of an eagle: sweet and somewhat sad, as of a
person who thinks of and regrets lost things. Her skin is brown, but
not excessively so. Her mouth, slightly large, is well formed and is
motionless in an austere setting, which, however, is not a hard one.
Her nose is long and thin, slightly drooping, an aquiline nose, which
suits her eyes. She is well built, but not fat, well proportioned and
I think tall, judging her in a sitting position.
I think she is weaving a curtain or a
carpet. The many-coloured shuttles move fast on the brown coloured
weft, and what has already been woven shows a pretty plaited work of
Greek frets and rosettes in which green, yellow, red and deep blue
interweave and blend as in a mosaic.
The woman is wearing a very plain dark
dress, a red violet colour, the hue of a special species of pansy.
She stands up when she hears someone
knocking at the door. She is really tall. She opens the door.
A woman asks her: « Anne, will you
give me your amphora? (1). I will fill it for you. »
The woman has a lovely five year old
child with her, who at once clings to Anne's dress, and she caresses
him while going into another room, and returns with a beautiful
copper amphora which she hands to the woman saying: « You are always
good to old Anne, indeed you are. May God reward you with this son
and the other children you will have, you fortunate one! » Anne
sighs.
The woman looks at her and does not
know what to say in the circumstances. To divert attention from the
distressing situation of which she is aware, she remarks: « I am
leaving Alphaeus with you, if you do not mind, so that I will be
quicker and I will fill many jars and jugs for you.»
Alphaeus is very pleased to stay and
the reason is clear. As soon as his mother is gone, Anne picks him up
and takes him into the orchard, lifts him up to a pergola (2) of
grapes as golden as a topaz and says to him: «Eat, eat, because they
are good », and she kisses him on his little face soiled with the
juice of the grapes which the child eats avidly. Then she laughs
heartily and at once looks younger on account of the lovely set of
teeth she displays, and the joy that shines on her face, dispelling
her years, as the child asks: «And what are you going to give me
now? » and he gazes at her with large wide open eyes of a deep
grey-blue colour. She laughs and plays with him bending on her knees
and goes on: « What will you give me if I give you?... if I give
you?... guess! » And the child, clapping his little hands, with a
big smile responds: « Kisses, kisses I will give you, nice Anne,
good Anne, mamma Anne!... »
Anne, when she hears him say: « mamma
Anne », gives out a real cry of joyful love and cuddles the little
one declaring: « My darling! Dear! Dear! Dear!» At each « dear »
a kiss descends upon the rosy cheeks.
Then they go to a cupboard and from a
plate she takes some honey cakes. «I made them for you, darling of
poor Anne, because you love me. But tell me, how much do you love me?
» And the child, thinking of what has impressed him most, says: «
As much as the Temple of the Lord.» Anne kisses him again on his
lively little eyes, his little red lips and the child cuddles against
her like a kitten.
His mother goes back and forth with a
full jar and smiles without saying anything. She leaves them to their
effusiveness.
An elderly man comes in from the
orchard. He is a little smaller than Anne, and his thick hair is
completely white. His face is of a clear complexion with a squarely
cut beard; his eyes are like blue turquoises and his eyelashes are
light brown, almost fair. His robe is dark brown.
Anne does not see him because her back
is turned to the door and he approaches her from behind questioning:
« And nothing for me? » Anne turns round and says: « O Joachim!
Have you finished your work? » At the same time little Alphaeus runs
to the elderly man's knees exclaiming: « Also to you, also to you. »
And when the man bends down to kiss him, the child clings to his
neck, ruffling his beard with his little hands and his kisses.
Joachim also has his gift. He brings
his left hand from behind his back and offers the child such a
beautiful apple, that it seems made of the finest porcelain. Smiling
he says to the child who is holding his hands out eagerly: « Wait, I
will cut it for you! You cannot take it as it is. It is bigger than
you! » With a small pruning knife, which he carries on his belt, he
cuts the fruit into small slices. He seems to be feeding a nestling,
such is the care with which he puts the morsels into the little wide
open mouth that munches and chews.
« Look at his eyes, Joachim! Don't
they look like two little wavelets of the Sea of Galilee when the
evening wind draws a veil of cloud over the sky? » Anne is speaking,
resting one hand on her husband's shoulder, and she is leaning
slightly on him, too: an attitude revealing the deep love of a wife,
a love still perfect after many years of marriage.
And Joachim looks at her lovingly and
agrees, saying: « Most beautiful! And His curls? Aren't they the
colour of crops dried in the sun? Look: in them there is a mixture of
gold and copper. »
« Ah! If we had had a child, I would
have liked him thus: with these eyes and this hair... » Anne has
bent down, in fact she is on her knees and with a deep sigh she
kisses the two large grey-blue eyes.
Joachim, too, sighs. But he wishes to
comfort her. He puts his hand on her thick curly grey hair and
whispers to her: « We must continue to hope. God can do everything.
While we are alive, the miracle may happen, particularly when we love
Him and we love each other.» Joachim stresses the final phrase.
But Anne is silent, dejected, and she
is standing, her head bowed, to conceal two tears streaming down her
face. Only little Alphaeus sees them and he is confounded and grieved
that his great friend is crying, as he sometimes does. He lifts his
hands and wipes the tears.
« Don't cry, Anne! We are happy just
the same. At least I am, because I have you.»
« Also I have you. But I have not
given you a child... I think I have distressed the Lord, because He
has made my womb barren...»
« O my wife! How can you have
distressed Him, you holy woman? Listen. Let us go once more to the
Temple. For this reason. Not only for the Tabernacles! Let us say a
long prayer... Perhaps it will happen to you as it did to Sarah... as
it happened to Anne of Elkanah. They waited for a long time and they
considered themselves dejected because they were barren. Instead a
holy son was maturing for them in the Heavens of God. Smile, my wife.
Your crying is a greater sorrow to me than being without offspring...
We shall take Alphaeus with us. We shall make him pray, since he is
innocent... and God will hear his prayer and ours together and will
grant it.»
« Yes, let us make a vow to the Lord.
The offspring will be His. As long as He grants it. Oh to hear me
being called "mamma"! »
And Alphaeus, an astonished and
innocent spectator, exclaims: « I will call you so! »
« Yes, my darling... but you have your
mummy, and I have no baby... »
The vision ceases here.
I understand that Mary's birth cycle
has begun. And I am very happy because I wanted it so much. And I
think that you (3) will be happy, too.
Before I began to write I heard Mother
say to me: « So, My dear daughter, write about Me. All your grief
will be comforted. » And while saying so She laid Her hand on my
head caressing me kindly. Then the vision began. But at first, that
is, until I heard the fifty-year-old woman being called by name, I
did not realise that I was in the presence of mother's Mother and
consequently of the grace of Her birth.
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(1) Amphora: a two-handled jar commonly
used by the Greeks and Romans.
(2) Pergola: grape vines supported by
poles and forming a kind of roof with their leaves.
(3) It is to be noted that Maria
Valtorta often addresses her spiritual Father in the course of her
work.
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