But Jesus, my dear Jesus, loves me even this way, and continuously makes himself felt to my soul. I have only one good thing, dear Dad and it is good intentions; those at least I think I feel. And since Jesus tells me this greatly helps one who is weak and poor like I am, so I hope it will be pleasing to one who is strong and great like Jesus.
That soul promised me everything. Oh if she could truly obtain for me from God the pardon of so many sins! Sins, sins, flee from me! You will no longer have a place in the heart you profaned for so long with your abominations! Beloved Jesus, I want to amend my ways, have compassion for me, forgive me!
You know where the devil also approached? On that permission I asked for and that you denied me. He suggested as follows: "How Jesus would be pleased if you no longer indulged in any comforts! You think you are progressing this way? Your life is too easy. If you do not make penance to pay for your sins, you will have to stay a long time in Purgatory, if you're lucky! Hell is always open for the lazy, etc. etc." Oh Dad, notwithstanding all this chatter I am calm, at peace; my faith is in you, and I would go straight to Hell rather than disobey. Answer me clearly. And Serafina, have you seen her? ... What does Jesus say? ... Fiat voluntas tua for always, beloved Jesus. Oh dear Dad, think of my soul; I shall think of yours.
Now you think I'm finished, but slow down ... I want a tiny little permission this time. You will see, Jesus will say yes right away when you ask him. It is necessary. I pray you, reflect on it and write.
Bless me strongly, very strongly, dear Dad, at every moment. Write to me, I need so much advice about the path to follow.
Did you see Serafina? Have her pray for me. Hold me tightly. My dear Father, if you feel me stray, hold on to me. My body continues to consume me, but since I eat a little, it's going more slowly.
Goodbye, my dear Dad, bless your poor Gemma
[P.S.] The angel gave me a few drops of a white liquid in a golden goblet to drink, saying this was the medicine a doctor in Heaven used to heal infirmities.
Letter to Father Germanus
Sunday, July 27, 1902
"When you return to Lucca [from vacationing in Viareggio], as soon as you arrive, tell Mrs. Cecilia to call the family doctor to visit you, because you are sick."
For obedience I did so; whatever Mrs. Cecilia does, I submit gladly.
Dad, my Dad ... my everything after Jesus. My good angel will tell you the rest ...
We returned yesterday from Viareggio and found your letter. About me, my experiences, my permissions you say nothing? ... If Jesus wishes and if you have time, I'm waiting; if not, it's all the same.
Dear Dad, Jesus continues, even increases, his sweetnesses toward this vile creature: each day instead of offering me a chalice of grief he offers me a chalice of relief, of comfort, of joy, and of love.
The last two days have been a bit topsy-turvy. I looked at the others in the house, for example Annetta and Eufemia and I thought: how I would like to live as they live, without anything extraordinary and a thousand strange ideas.
Jesus, right at suppertime, returned my peace with these words: "Daughter, are you not pleased to do my will?" My calm returned and I dwelt on it no further.
My health goes ... as Jesus wishes: I retain food well, I eat what is necessary for me, but my body is not yet fully healed. Dad, the monsignor, seeing me so thin, seeks a doctor; but this time it is for bad ends ... He wants me to undergo a complete examination; they either fear I will die, or else ...
According to Jesus, this is the time I will feel well, but the time will be very brief. What will follow, when? ... Quickly, quickly, my God! Quickly, Dad! [Editors note: In September, less than 2 months after this letter, Gemma fell gravely ill and after 7 months of intense suffering she died on Holy Saturday April 11, 1903. +]
In the morning, after Communion, let me know from Jesus if you wish me to send a note with my good angel. I have one thing to say: if he tells you, then there is no need to write but if he does not, then let me know, so I can send my angel with a letter. Jesus will let me know.'
Bless me strongly, very strongly.
I am your poor Gemma