The Book of Heaven
—Unofficial Version—

March 13, 1908

The warmth of the union with Jesus dispels from the soul the cold of human inclinations.

While I was in my usual state, a demon came who did strange things, but as soon as he disappeared I no longer thought about it, to the point of forgetting about his strange behavior, occupying myself with my highest and only good. Later, however, a thought came to me: ‘How bad and insipid I am – nothing makes an impression on me.’ And blessed Jesus told me: "My daughter, there are certain regions in which the plants are not subject to cold, to frost, to snow, and therefore they are not stripped of their leaves, flowers and fruits; and if they take some breaks, it is for a short time, so that when their fruits are picked, there may be the necessary time for others to grow. In fact, warmth fecundates them in an admirable way, and they are not subject to slowness, as the plants in cold regions. These poor plants, because of frost and snow, for long months are subject to producing very few fruits, and for a very short time, almost tiring the patience of the farmer who has to pick them.

Such are the souls who have reached union with Me: the warmth of my union dispels from them the cold of human inclinations which, like cold, renders them sterile and stripped of leaves and of divine fruits. The frosts of passions, the snows of disturbances, block the fruits of Grace in the soul. But since they remain in the shadow of their union with Me, nothing makes an impression on them any more, nothing enters into their interior which may disturb our union and our rest; the whole of their lives turns within my center. So, their inclination, their passion, is for God; and if sometimes there is a little break, it is nothing but a simple hiding of Myself in order to give them a surprise of greater consolations, and therefore be able to enjoy in them more delicious fruits of patience and of heroism, which they have exercised during my hiding.

All the opposite happens to imperfect souls: they really seem like plants born in cold regions; they are subject to all impressions; so, their lives live more from impressions than from reason and virtue. Inclinations, passions, temptations, disturbances and all the events of life are like colds, snows, frosts, hails, which prevent the development of my union with them; and when it seems that they have had a beautiful flowering, a new failure, something that upsets them, is enough to make this beautiful flowering wither and fall to the ground. So, they are always at the beginning; they produce very few fruits, and they almost tire my patience in cultivating them."