I had gone to Kentucky this past July to pick up my remaining belongings which were in storage and make the final move to Steubenville, having just bought a house there. I had prayed most of the drive.
When I arrived in Louisville, it was 1 am. I got ready for bed and found myself in a very dark room, not a glimmer of light entering it. As I was saying my prayers in this very comfortable room with no distractions, I started thinking of something which grieved my heart to no end. I tried so hard not to think of it, saying to myself that I was tired, so very tired of crying. I tried everything in my power to not think of this thing that caused my heart such grief and sorrow, but something kept urging me to think of it … it persisted and as I felt my eyes well with tears, laying in the darkness, my eyes closed, I suddenly experienced within me, my mind and heart, the softest, yet brightest light.
The light was hued in pale blue white, yet suddenly colors emerged from this blue (almost imperceptible in its blueness). The colors began to rapidly swirl, like a rainbow sherbet, only in many beautiful pastel colors, and as they swirled, take form, and I realized as the form became more defined that I was looking at my hands lifted together and holding something, as if trying to capture running water.
And what I was holding, I realized as the form took clearer shape, was that thing which caused my heart such anguish. As I zoomed in on that pain in my open hands, it became a flower. The most beautiful flower I had ever seen, more beautiful than a gardenia, than any tropical flower. It was something I have never seen before. It was so beautiful my heart was amazed by it.
And as quickly as the pain became a flower I saw myself release it. The pain, the beautiful flower, was released into the Immaculate Heart of Mary, our most august Queen. The image of colors was actually the form of Our Lady, my hands in Her very Heart, releasing my pain, which became part of what makes Her so beautiful. It was not what made Her beautiful, rather a part of what makes Her beautiful, because nothing can add to Her immense and perfect beauty. I was flooded with such a love and peace and quietly, as if with the slight breath of a kiss, I gave over this joy which for me had once been the deepest wound of love.
So you see, everything must be given to Our Lady, for everything becomes part of what it is that makes Her so beautiful. It becomes immersed in Her beauty. And as She told Ivan, one of the visionaries in Medjugorje, who asked her how it is that She is so beautiful, “Dear Children! I am beautiful because I love, and you also can become beautiful, if you love.”
Is it possible... That there exists a Catholic mystery that holds the secret of America's future and that God is sending America a prophetic message of what is yet to come through his Messenger the Mother of Christ?