Archivo del 9 enero, 2024
Fatima.English. AFTER THE APPARITIONS,Lucia Goes to School,
9 enero, 2024 Autor: admin- Lucia Goes to School
Oh dear, here I am writing without rhyme or reason, as we say,
and already leaving out various things that I should have said! But
I am doing as Your Excellency told me: writing just what I remember
and in all simplicity. That is what I want to do, without worrying
about order or style. In that way, I think my obedience is more perfect,
and therefore, more pleasing to Our Lord and to the Immaculate
Heart of Mary.
I will go back, then, to my parents’ home. I have told Your Excellency
that my mother had to sell our flock. We kept only three
sheep, which we took along with us when we went to the fields.
Whenever we stayed at home, we kept them in the pen and fed
28 The place is called Soutaria. Senhora Emilia’s house was rebuilt as a chapel.
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them there. My mother then sent me to school, and in my free time,
she wanted me to learn weaving and sewing. In this way, she had
me safe in the house, and didn’t have to waste any time looking for
- One fine day, my sisters were asked to go with some other
girls to help with the vintage on the property of a wealthy man of Pé
de Cão 29. My mother decided to let them go, as long as I could go
too. I have already said earlier on, that my mother never allowed
them to go anywhere, unless they took me with them.
- Lucia and the Parish Priest
At that time also, the parish priest began preparing the children
for a solemn Communion. Since the age of six, I had repeated
my solemn Communion every year, but this year my mother decided
I would not do so. For this reason, I did not attend the Catechism
classes. After school, the other children went to the parish
priest’s verandah, while I went home to get on with my sewing or
weaving. The good priest did not take kindly to my absence from
the Catechism classes. One day, on my way home from school, his
sister sent another child after me. She caught up with me on the
road to Aljustrel, near the house of a poor man who was nicknamed
‘Snail’. She told me that the parish priest’s sister wanted me, and
that I was to go straight back.
Thinking that I was just wanted for questioning, I excused myself,
saying that my mother had told me to go home right after
school. Without further ado, I took to my heels across the fields like
a mad thing, in search of a hiding place where no one could find
- But this time, the prank cost me dear. Some days later, there
was a big feast in the parish, and several priests came from all
around to sing the Mass. When it was over, the parish priest sent
for me, and in front of all those priests, reprimanded me severely
for not attending the Catechism lessons, and for not running back
to his sister when she had sent for me. In short, all my faults and
failings were brought to light, and the sermon went on for quite a
long while.
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At last, though I don’t know how, a holy priest appeared on the
scene, and sought to plead my cause. He tried to excuse me, saying
that perhaps my mother had not given me permission. But the
good priest replied: “Her mother! Why, she’s a saint! But as for this
one, it remains to be seen what she’ll turn out to be!”
The good priest, who later became Vicar of Torres Novas, then
asked me very kindly why I had not been to the catechism classes.
I therefore told him of my mother’s decision. His Reverence did not
seem to believe me, and sent for my sister Gloria who was over by
the church, to find out the truth of the matter. Having found that
indeed things were just as I had said, he came to this conclusion:
“Well then! Either the child is going to attend the catechism classes
for the days still remaining, and afterwards come to me for confession,
and then make her solemn Communion with all the rest of
the children, or she’s never going to receive Communion again in
this parish!”
When my sister heard this proposal, she pointed out that I was
due to leave with my sisters five days beforehand, and such an
arrangement would be most inconvenient. She added that, if His
Reverence so desired, I could go to Confession and Communion
some other day before we left. The good priest paid no attention to
her request, and stood firm by his decision.
When we reached home, we told my mother all about it. She
also went to the Reverend Father to ask him to hear my confession
and give me Holy Communion on another day. But it was all in
vain. My mother then decided that, after the solemn Communion
day, my brother would make the journey with me, in spite of the
long distance and the difficulties caused by the extremely bad roads,
winding up and down the hills and highlands. I think I must have
sweated ink at the mere idea of having to go to confession to the
parish priest! I was so upset that I cried.
On the day before the solemn Communion, His Reverence
sent for all the children to go to church in the afternoon to make
their confession. As I went, anguish gripped my heart as in a vice.
As I entered the church, I saw that there were several priests hearing
confessions. There at the end of the church was Reverend
Father Cruz from Lisbon. I had spoken to His Reverence before
and I liked him very much indeed.
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Without noticing that the parish priest was in an open confessional
halfway up the church, I thought to myself: “First, I’ll go and
make my confession to Father Cruz and ask him what I am to do,
and then l’ll go to the parish priest.” Dr. Cruz received me with the
greatest kindness. After hearing my confession, he gave me some
advice, telling me that if I did not want to go to the parish priest, I
should not do so; and that he could not refuse me Communion for
something like that. I was radiant with joy on hearing this advice
and said my penance. Then I made good my escape from the
church, for fear lest somebody might call me back. Next day, I went
to the church all dressed in white, still afraid that I might be refused
Communion. But His Reverence contented himself with letting me
know, when the feast was over, that my lack of obedience in going
to confession to another priest had not passed unnoticed.
The good priest grew more and more displeased and perplexed
conceming these events until, one day, he left the parish. The news
then went round that His Reverence had left on account of me 30,
because he did not want to assume responsibility for these events.
He was a zealous priest and much beloved among the people, and
so I had much to suffer as a result. Several pious women, whenever
they met me, gave vent to their displeasure by insulting me;
and sometimes sent me on my way with a couple of blows or kicks.
- Companions in Sympathy and in Sacriflce
These heaven-sent ‘caresses’ were rarely meted out to Jacinta
and Francisco, for their parents would not allow anyone to lay hands
on them. But they suffered when they saw me suffering, and many
a time tears ran down their cheeks whenever they saw me distressed
or humiliated.
One day, Jacinta said to me: “lf only my parents were like yours,
so that those people would beat me too, then I’d have more sacrifices
to offer Our Lord.” However, she knew how to make the most
of opportunities for mortifying herself. Occasionally also, we were
in the habit of offering to God the sacrifice of spending nine days or
a month without taking a drink. Once, we made this sacrifice even
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in the month of August, when the heat was suffocating. As we were
returning, one day, from the Cova da Iria where we had been praying
our Rosary, we came to a pond beside the road, and Jacinta
said to me:
“Oh I’m so thirsty, and my head aches so! I’m going to drink a
little drop of this water.”
“Not that water,” I answered. “My mother doesn’t want us to
drink it, because it’s not good for us. We’ll go and ask Maria dos
Anjos for some.” (She was a neighbour of ours, who had recently
married and was living near there in a small house).
“No! I don’t want good water. I’d rather drink this, because instead
of offering Our Lord our thirst, I could offer Him the sacrifice
of drinking this dirty water.”
As a matter of fact, this water was filthy. People washed their
clothes in it, and the animals came there to drink and waded right
into it. That was why my mother warned her children not to drink
this water.
At other times, Jacinta would say:
“Our Lord must be pleased with our sacrifices, because I am
so thirsty, so thirsty! Yet I do not want to take a drink. I want to suffer
for love of Him.”
One day, we were sitting in the doorway of my uncle’s house,
when we noticed several people approaching. Not having time to
do anything else, Francisco and I ran inside to hide under the beds,
he in one room and I in another. Jacinta said: “I’m not going to hide.
I’m going to offer this sacrifice to Our Lord.”
These people came up and talked to her, waiting around quite
a long time until I could be found. Finally, they went away. I slipped
out of my hiding-place and asked Jacinta:
“What did you answer when they asked if you knew where we
were?”
“ I said nothing at all. I put my head down, kept my eyes fixed
on the ground, and said nothing. I always do that, when I don’t
want to tell the truth, and I don’t want to tell a lie either, because
Iying is a sin.”
She was indeed accustomed to do just this, and it was useless
to question her, for those who did so obtained no response
whatsoever. If escape were at all possible, we normally felt little
inclined to offer this kind of sacrifice.
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Another day, we were sitting in the shade of two fig trees overhanging
the road that runs by my cousins’ house. Francisco began
to play a little way off. He saw several ladies coming towards us and
ran back to warn us. We promptly climbed up the fig trees. In those
days it was the fashion to wear hats with brims as wide as a sieve,
and we were sure that with such headgear, those people would
never catch sight of us up there. As soon as the ladies had gone by,
we came down as fast as we could, took to our heels and hid in a
cornfield.
This habit we had of making good our escape, whenever possible,
was yet another cause for complaint on the part of the parish
priest. He bitterly complained of the way we tried to avoid priests in
particular. His Reverence was cerlainly right. It was priests especially
who put us through the most rigorous cross-examinations,
and then returned to question us all over again. Whenever we found
ourselves in the presence of a priest, we prepared to offer to God
one of our greatest sacrifices!
- Government Opposition
Meanwhile, the Govemment showed disapproval of the way
affairs were progressing. At the place of the Apparitions some people
had erected poles to form an arch, hung with lanterns which
they were careful to keep always burning. One night orders were
given for some men to pull down these poles, and also cut down
the holmoak on which the Apparitions had taken place, and drag it
away with them behind a car. In the morning, news of what had
happened spread like wildfire. I ran to the place to see if it were
true. But what was my delight to find that the poor men had made a
mistake, and that instead of cutting down the holmoak, they had
carried off one of the others growing nearby! I then asked Our Lady
to forgive these poor men and I prayed for their conversion.
Some time later, on the 13th of May, I don’t remember whether
it was in 1918 or 1919 31, news went round at dawn that cavalrymen
were in Fatima to prevent the people from going to the Cova da Iria.
31
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Everybody was alarmed, and came to give me the news, assuring
me that without any doubt this was to be the last day of my life.
Without taking this news too seriously, I set out for the church. When
I reached Fatima, I passed between the horses which were all over
the church grounds, and went into the church. I heard a Mass celebrated
by a priest I did not know, received Holy Communion, made
my thanksgiving, and went back home without anyone saying a
single word to me. I don’t know whether it was because they did
not see me, or that they did not think me worthy of notice.
News kept coming in that the troops were trying in vain to keep
people away from the Cova da Iria. In spite of this, I went there, too,
to recite the Rosary. On the way I was joined by a group of women
who had come from a distance. As we drew near the place, two
cavalrymen gave their horses a smart crack of the whip and advanced
at full speed towards the group. They pulled up beside us
and asked where we were going. The women boldly replied that “it
was none of their business”. They whipped the horses again, as
though they meant to charge forward and trample us all underfoot.
The women ran in all directions and, a moment later, I found myself
alone with the two cavalrymen. They then asked me my name, and
I gave it without hesitation. They next asked if I were the seer, and
I said I was. They ordered me to step out on to the middle of the
road between the two horses, and proceed in the direction of
Fatima.
As we reached the pond I spoke of earlier, a poor woman who
lived there and whom I have also mentioned, seeing me coming in
the distance between the two horses, ran out, as I approached,
into the middle of the road, like another Veronica. The soldiers lost
no time in getting her out of the way, and the poor woman burst into
a flood of tears, loudly bewailing my misfortune. A few paces further
on, they stopped and asked me if the woman was my mother.
I said she was not. They did not believe me, and asked if that house
was my home. I again said “No”. Still apparently not believing me,
they ordered me to walk a little ahead until I arrived at my parent’s
house.
When we reached a plot of ground that lies on the outskirts of
Aljustrel, where there was a small spring, and some trenches dug
for planting vines, they called a halt, and said to one another, probably
in order to frighten me:
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“Here are some open trenches. Let’s cut off her head with one
of our swords, and leave her here dead and buried. Then we’ll be
finished with this business once and for all.”
When I heard these words, I thought that my last moment had
really come, but I was as much at peace as if it did not concern me
at all. After a minute or two during which they seemed to be thinking
it over, the other replied:
“No, we have no authority to do such a thing.”
They ordered me to keep on going. So I went straight through
our little village, until I arrived at my parents’ house. All the neighbours
were at the windows and doors of their houses to see what
was going on. Some were laughing and making fun of me, others
lamenting my sorry plight. When we reached my home, they ordered
me to call my parents, but they were not at home. One of
them dismounted and went to see if my parents were hiding inside.
He searched the house, but found no one; whereupon he gave
orders for me to stay indoors for the rest of the day. Then he mounted
his horse and they both rode off.
Late in the afternoon, news went round that the troops had
withdrawn, defeated by the people. At sunset, I was praying my
Rosary in the Cova da Iria, accompanied by hundreds of people.
While I was under arrest, according to what we heard later, some
persons went to tell my mother what was happening, and she replied:
“If it’s true that she saw Our Lady, Our Lady will defend her,
and if she’s Iying, it will serve her right to be punished.” And she
remained in peace as before. Now, some one will ask me: “And
where were your little companions, while this was going on?” I don’t
know. I can recall nothing at all of their whereabouts at that time.
Perhaps, in view of the news that got abroad, their parents did not
allow them to leave the house at all that day.
- Lucia’s Mother Falls Seriously
Such suffering on my part must have been pleasing to Our
Lord, because He was about to prepare a most bitter chalice for
me which He was soon to give me to drink. My mother fell so seriously
ill that, at one stage, we thought she was dying. All her children
gathered around her bed to receive her last blessing, and to
kiss the hand of their dying mother. As I was the youngest, my turn
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came last. When my poor mother saw me, she brightened a little,
flung her arms around my neck and, with a deep sigh, exclaimed:
“My poor daughter, what will become of you without your mother! I
am dying with my heart pierced through because of you.” Then,
bursting into tears and sobbing bitterly, she clasped me more and
more tightly in her arms.
My eldest sister forcibly pulled me away from my mother, took
me to the kitchen and forbade me to go back to the sick room,
saying: “Mother is going to die of grief because of all the trouble
you’ve given her!” I knelt down, put my head on a bench, and in a
distress more bitter than any I had ever known before, I made the
offering of my sacrifice to our dear Lord. A few minutes later, my
two older sisters, thinking the case was hopeless, came to me and
said: “Lucia! If it is true that you saw Our Lady, go right now to the
Cova da Iria, and ask her to cure our mother. Promise her whatever
you wish and we’ll do it; and then we’ll believe.”
Without losing a moment, I set out. So as not to be seen, I
made my way across the fields along some bypaths, reciting the
Rosary all the way. Once there, I placed my request before Our
Lady and unburdened myself of all my sorrow, shedding copious
tears. I then went home, comforted by the hope that my beloved
Mother in heaven would hear my prayer and restore health to my
mother on earth. When I reached home, my mother was already
feeling somewhat better. Three days later, she was able to resume
her work around the house.
I had promised the most Blessed Virgin that, if she granted me
what I asked, I would go there for nine days in succession, together
with my sisters, pray the Rosary and go on our knees from
the roadway to the holmoak tree; and on the ninth day we would
take nine poor children with us, and afterwards give them a meal.
We went, then, to fulfil my promise, and my mother came with us.
“How strange!”, she said. “Our Lady cured me, and somehow
I still don’t believe! I don’t know how this can be!”
- Lucia’s Father Dies
Our good Lord gave me this consolation, but once again He
came knocking on my door to ask yet another sacrifice, and not a
small one either. My father was a healthy man, and robust; he said
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he had never known what it was to have a headache. But, in less
than twenty-four hours, an attack of double pneumonia carried him
off into eternity 32. My sorrow was so great that I thought I would die
as well. He was the only one who never failed to show himself to be
my friend, and the only one who defended me when disputes arose
at home on account of me.
“My God! My God!” I exclaimed in the privacy of my room. “I
never thought You had so much suffering in store for me! But I
suffer for love of You, in reparation for the sins committed against
the Immaculate Heart of Mary, for the Holy Father and for the conversion
of sinners.”
- Serious Illness of Lucia’s Cousins
Around that time, Jacinta and Francisco also began to grow
worse 33, Jacinta used to tell me sometimes:
“My chest hurts so much, but I’m not saying anything to my
mother! I want to suffer for Our Lord, in reparation for the sins committed
against the Immaculate Heart of Mary, for the Holy Father
and for the conversion of sinners.” One morning, when I went to
see her, she asked me:
“How many sacrifices did you offer to Our Lord last night?”
“Three. I got up three times to recite the Angel’s prayers.”
“Well, I offered Him many, many sacrifices. I don’t know how
many there were, but I had a lot of pain, and I made no complaint.”
Francisco spoke very little. He usually did everything he saw
us doing, and rarely suggested anything himself. During his illness,
he suffered with heroic patience, without ever letting the slightest
moan or the least complaint escape his lips. One day, shortly before
his death, I asked him:
“Are you suffering a lot, Francisco?”
“Yes, but I suffer it all for love of Our Lord and Our Lady.”
One day, he gave me the rope that I have already spoken about,
saying:
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“Take it away before my mother sees it. I don’t feel able to wear
it any more around my waist.”
He took everything his mother offered him, and she could never
discover which things he disliked. He went on like this until the day
came for him to go to heaven 34. The day before his death, he said
to Jacinta and myself:
“ I am going to heaven, but when I’m there, I will pray a great
deal to Our Lord and Our Lady, asking them to bring you there, too,
very soon.”
I think I have already described, in my account of Jacinta, what
suffering this separation caused us. For this reason, I do not repeat
it here. Jacinta was already very sick, and was gradually growing
worse. There is no need to describe it now, as I have already done
- I shall simply relate one or two acts of virtue, which I saw her
practise, and which I do not think I have described before.
Her mother knew how hard it was for her to take milk. So, one
day, she brought her a fine bunch of grapes with her cup of milk,
saying:
“Jacinta, take this. If you can’t take the milk, leave it there, and
eat the grapes.”
“No, mother, I don’t want the grapes; take them away, and give
me the milk instead. I’ll take that.” Then, without showing the least
sign of repugnance, she took it. My aunt went happily away, thinking
her little girl’s appetite was returning. She had no sooner gone
than Jacinta turned to me and said:
“ I had such a longing for those grapes and it was so hard to
drink the milk! But I wanted to offer this sacrifice to Our Lord.”
One morning, I found her looking dreadful, and I asked her if
she felt worse.
“Last night,” she answered, “ I had so much pain, and I wanted
to offer Our Lord the sacrifice of not turning over in bed; therefore I
didn’t sleep at all.”
On another occasion, she told me:
“ When I’m alone, I get out of bed to recite the Angel’s prayer.
But now I’m not able to touch the ground any more with my head,
because I fall over; so I only pray on my knees.”
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One day, I had the opportunity of speaking to the Vicar. His
Reverence asked me about Jacinta and how she was. I told him
what I thought about her condition, and afterwards related what
she had said to me about being unable to touch the ground when
she prayed. His Reverence sent me to tell her that she was not to
get out of bed in order to pray, but that she was to pray Iying down,
and then only as long as she could do so without getting tired. I
delivered the message at the very first opportunity.
“And will Our Lord be pleased?” she asked.
“He is pleased,” I replied. “Our Lord wants us to do whatever
the Reverend Vicar says.”
“That’s alright, then. I won’t get up any more.” Whenever I could,
I loved to go to the Cabeço to pray in our favourite cave. Jacinta
was very fond of flowers, and coming down the hillside on the way
home, I used to pick a bunch of irises and peonies, when there
were any to be found, and take them to her, saying:
“Look! These are from the Cabeço!” She would take them eagerly,
and sometimes, with tears running down her cheeks, she
would say:
“To think I’ll never go there again! Nor to Valinhos, nor Cova da
Iria! I miss them all so much!”
“But what does it matter, if you’re going to heaven to see Our
Lord and Our Lady?”
“That’s true,” she replied.
Then she lay there contentedly, plucking off the petals and
counting them one by one.
A few days after falling ill, she gave me the rope she had been
wearing, and said:
“Keep it for me; I’m afraid my mother may see it. If I get better,
I want it back again!”
This cord had three knots, and was somewhat stained with
blood. I kept it hidden until I finally left my mother’s home. Then, not
knowing what to do with it, I burned it, and Francisco’s as well.
- Lucia in Poor Health
Several people who came from a distance to see us, noticing
that I looked very pale and anaemic, asked my mother to let me go
and spend a few days in their homes, saying the change of air
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would do me good. With this end in view, my mother gave her consent,
and they took me with them, now to one place, now to another.
When away from home like this, I did not always meet with
esteem and affection. While there were some who admired me
and considered me a saint, there were always others who heaped
abuse upon me and called me a hypocrite, a visionary and a sorceress.
This was the good Lord’s way of throwing salt into the water
to prevent it from going bad. Thanks to this Divine Providence, I
went through the fire without being burned, or without becoming
acquainted with the little worm of vanity which has the habit of
gnawing its way into everything. On such occasions, I used to think
to myself: “They are all mistaken. I’m not a saint, as some say, and
I’m not a liar either, as others say. Only God knows what I am.”
When I got home, I would run to see Jacinta, who said:
“Listen! Don’t go away again. I have been so lonely for you!
Since you went away, I have not spoken to anyone. I don’t know
how to talk to other people.”
The time finally came for Jacinta to leave for Lisbon. I have
already described our leave-taking, and therefore I won’t repeat it
here. How sad I was to find myself alone! In such a short space of
time, our dear Lord had taken to heaven my beloved father, and
then Francisco; and now He was taking Jacinta, whom I was never
to see again in this world. As soon as I could, I slipped away to the
Cabeço, and hid within our cave among the rocks. There, alone
with God, I poured forth my grief and shed tears in abundance.
Coming back down the slope, everything reminded me of my dear
companions; the stones on which we had so often sat, the flowers
I no longer picked, not having anyone to take them to; Valinhos,
where the three of us had enjoyed the delights of paradise! As
though I had lost all sense of reality, and still half abstracted, I went
into my aunt’s house one day and made for Jacinta’s room, calling
out to her. Her sister Teresa, seeing me like that, barred the way,
and reminded me that Jacinta was no longer there!
Shortly afterwards, news arrived that she had taken flight to
Heaven 35. Her body was then brought back to Vila Nova de Ourém.
My aunt took me there one day to pray beside the mortal remains
35 Jacinta died on the 20th of February, 1920.
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of her little daughter, in the hope of thus distracting me. But for a
long time after, my sorrow seemed only to grow ever greater. Whenever
I found the cemetery open, I went and sat by Francisco’s grave,
or beside my father’s, and there I spent long hours.
My mother, thank God, decided some time after this to go to
Lisbon, and to take me with her 36. Through the kindness of Dr.
Formigão, a good lady received us into her house, and offered to
pay for my education in a boarding-school, if I was willing to remain.
My mother and I gratefully accepted the generous offer of
this charitable lady, whose name was Dona Assunção Avelar. My
mother, after consulting the doctors, found that she needed an
operation for kidneys and spinal column, but the doctors would not
be responsible for her life, since she also suffered from a cardiac
lesion. She therefore went home, leaving me in the care of this
lady. When everything was ready, and the day arranged for my
entering the boarding school, I was informed that the Government
was aware that I was in Lisbon, and was seeking my where-abouts.
They, therefore, took me to Santarém to Dr. Formigão’s house, and
for some days I remained hidden, without even being allowed out
to Mass.
Finally, His Reverence’s sister arrived to take me home to my
mother, promising to arrange for my admittance to a boarding school
that the Dorothean Sisters had in Spain, and assuring us that as
soon as everything was settled, she would come and fetch me. All
these happenings distracted me somewhat, and so the oppressive
sadness began to disappear.
- Lucia’s First Meeting with the Bishop
It was about this time that Your Excellency was installed as
Bishop of Leiria, and our dear Lord confided to your care this poor
flock that had been for so many years without a shepherd 37. There
were not wanting people who tried to frighten me about Your Excel-
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lency’s arrival, just as they had done before about another holy
priest. They told me that Your Excellency knew everything, that you
could read hearts and penetrate the depths of consciences, and
that now you were going to discover all my deception. Far from
frightening me, it made me earnestly desire to speak to you, and I
thought to myself: “lf it’s true that he knows everything, he will know
that I am speaking the truth.” For this reason, as soon as a kind
lady from Leiria offered to take me to see Your Excellency, I accepted
her suggestion with joy. There was I, full of hope, in expectation
of this happy moment. At last the day came, and the lady and
I went to the Palace. We were invited to enter, and shown to a
room, where we were asked to wait for a little while.
A few moments later, Your Excellency’s Secretary came in 38,
and spoke kindly with Dona Gilda who accompanied me. From time
to time, he asked me some questions. As I had already been twice
to confession to His Reverence, I already knew him, and it was
therefore a pleasure to talk to him. A little later, Rev. Dr. Marques
dos Santos 39 came in, wearing shoes with buckles, and wrapped
in a great big cloak. As it was the first time that I had seen a priest
dressed like this, it caught my attention.
He then embarked on a whole repertoire of questions that
seemed unending. Now and again, he laughed, as though making
fun of my replies, and it seemed as if the moment when I could
speak to Your Excellency would never come. At last, your Secretary
returned to speak to the lady who was with me. He told her
that when Your Excellency arrived, she was to make her apologies
and take her leave, saying that she had to go elsewhere, since
Your Excellency might wish to speak to me in private. I was delighted
when I heard this message, and I thought to myself: As His
Excellency knows everything, he won’t ask me many questions,
and he will be alone with me. What a blessing!
When Your Excellency arrived, the good lady played her part
very well, and so I had the happiness of speaking with you alone. I
am not going to describe now what happened during this interview,
because Your Excellency certainly remembers it better than I
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- To tell the truth, when I saw Your Excellency receive me with
such kindness, without in the least attempting to ask me any useless
or curious questions, being concerned solely for the good of
my soul, and only too willing to take care of this poor little lamb that
the Lord had just entrusted to you, then I was more convinced than
ever that Your Excellency did indeed know everything; and I did not
hesitate for a moment to give myself completely into your hands.
Thereupon, Your Excellency imposed certain conditions which,
because of my nature, I found very easy: that is, to keep completely
secret all that Your Excellency had said to me, and to be
good. I kept my secret to myself, until the day when Your Excellency
asked my mother’s consent.
- Farewell to Fatima
Finally, the day of my departure was settled. The evening before,
I went to bid farewell to all the familiar places so dear to us. My
heart was torn with loneliness and longing, for I was sure I would
never set foot again on the Cabeço, the Rock, Valinhos, or in the
parish church where our dear Lord had begun His work of mercy,
and the cemetery, where rested the mortal remains of my beloved
father and of Francisco, whom I could still never forget. I said goodbye
to our well, already illumined by the pale rays of the moon, and
to the old threshing-floor where I had so often spent long hours
contemplating the beauty of the starlit heavens, and the wonders
of sunrise and sunset which so enraptured me. I loved to watch the
rays of the sun reflected in the dew drops, so that the mountains
seemed covered with pearls in the morning sunshine; and in the
evening, after a snowfall, to see the snowflakes sparkling on the
pine trees was like a foretaste of the beauties of paradise.
Without saying farewell to anyone, I left the next day 40 at two
o’clock in the morning, accompanied by my mother and a poor
labourer called Manuel Correia, who was going to Leiria. I carried
my secret with me, inviolate. We went by way of the Cova da Iria,
so that I could bid it my last farewell. There, for the last time, I prayed
.
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my Rosary. As long as this place was still in sight, I kept turning
round to say a last goodbye. We arrived at Leiria at nine o’clock in
the morning. There I met Dona Filomena Miranda, whom Your Excellency
had charged to accompany me. This lady was later to be
my godmother at Confirmation. The train left at two o’clock in the
afternoon, and there I was at the station, giving my poor mother a
last embrace, Ieaving her overwhelmed with sorrow and shedding
abundant tears. The train moved out, and with it went my poor heart
plunged in an ocean of loneliness and filled with memories that I
could never forget
.
EPILOGUE
I think, Your Excellency, that I have just picked the most beautiful
flower and the most delicious fruit from my little garden, and I
now place it in the merciful hands of the good Lord, whom you
represent, praying that He will make it yield a plentiful harvest of
souls for eternal life. And since our dear Lord takes pleasure in the
humble obedience of the least of His creatures, I end with the words
of her whom He, in His infinite mercy, has given me as Mother,
Protectress and Model, the very same words with which I began:
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord! May He continue to make use
of her, as He thinks best.”
- Further Memories of Jacinta
- S. – I forgot to say that when Jacinta went to hospital in Vila
Nova de Ourém and again in Lisbon, she knew she was not going
to be cured, but only to suffer. Long before anybody spoke to her of
the possibility of her entering the hospital of Vila Nova de Ourém,
she said one day:
“Our Lady wants me to go to two hospitals, not to be cured,
but to suffer more for love of Our Lord and for sinners.”
I do not know Our Lady’s exact words in these apparitions to
Jacinta alone, for I never asked her what they were. I confined myself
to merely listening to what she occasionally confided to me. In this
account, I have tried not to repeat what I have written in the previous
one, so as not to make it too long.
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- Lucia’s Magnetic Personality
It may seem perhaps from this account that, in my village, nobody
showed me any love or tenderness. But this is not so. There
was a dear chosen portion of the Lord’s flock, who showed me
singular affection. These were the little children. They ran up to me,
bubbling over with joy, and when they knew I was pasturing my
sheep in the neighbourhood of our little village, whole groups of
them used to come and spend the day with me. My mother used to
say:
“ I don’t know what attraction you have for children! They run
after you as if they were going to a feast!”
As for myself, I did not feel at ease in the midst of such merriment,
and for that reason, I tried to keep out of their way.
The same thing happened to me with my companions in Vilar;
and I would almost venture to say that it is happening to me now
with my Sisters in religion. A few years ago, I was told by my Mother
Mistress, who is now Rev. Mother Provincial:
“You have such an influence over the other Sisters that, if you
want to, you can do them a great deal of good.” 41
And quite recently, Rev. Mother Superior in Pontevedra 42 said
to me:
“To a certain degree, you are responsible to Our Lord for the
state of fervour or negligence in observance, on the part of the
other Sisters, because their fervour is increased or diminished at
recreation; whatever the others see you doing at that time, they do
as well. Certain topics you brought up at recreation helped other
Sisters to understand the Rule better and made them resolve to
observe it more faithfully.”
Why is this?
I don’t know. Perhaps it is a talent which the Lord has given
me, and for which He will hold me to account. Would that I knew
how to trade with it, that I might restore it to Him a thousandfold.
.
- Lucia’s Excellent Memory
Maybe someone will want to ask: How can you remember all
this? How? I don’t know. Our dear Lord, Who shares out His gifts
as He thinks fit, has allotted to me this little portion – my memory.
He alone knows why. And besides, as far as I can see, there is this
difference between natural and supernatural things: “When we are
talking to a mere creature, even while we are speaking, we tend to
forget what is being said; whereas these supernatural things are
ever more deeply engraved on the soul, even as we are seeing
and hearing them, so that it is not eas