That night, she was the bearer of Love, the Custodian of Salvation, the Proclaimer of the Word still Mute, and, still today, those who hear her, do not open the door to Love.

Sorrow of the Virgin Mother who can only offer Him some straw in a manger, "because there was no room for them in the inn"; sorrow turned into Love in her lap, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

I am astonished before the Child-Love, I want to accompany Him in the cold Night, to stand still, to remain standing firm; I want to forget now my worries, and contemplate him unhurriedly, little by little, the defenseless God.

I want to be bold: to speak in Mary's ear, to look at Joseph out of the corner of my eye, to ask them to allow me, and with great care, slowly, with my lips tightly closed, kiss Him firmly.

Thank you, my God, for being with me, do not let me forget you, nor let me close my doors on you. May the warmth of my personal surrender protect you from the dreary cold of my own sins.

May it not be repeated in my life ever again that song so many times recited:

"How many times the angel has said to me:

Soul, lean out of the window now,

you will see with how much love

He is calling out to you!"

And how many times, sovereign beauty, I have answered:

"Tomorrow I shall open my door for you.”

And, the next day, I would refuse your Love –again– repeating, “Tomorrow!"