December 7, 1943: the day of “Yes” to God

Imagine a young girl in love, in love with a love which is the first love, the purest one, a love which is still undeclared, but which begins to enflame her heart.

A joy which is so special, difficult to experience again in a lifetime, a joy which is secret.

A few days before December 7, I was told to make a vigil the night before, beside a crucifix, in order to prepare myself the best way I could for my marriage with God, a marriage which was to take place in the most secret manner.

That evening I tried to make this vigil, kneeling beside my bed before a metal crucifix which my mother has now.

The next morning, I woke up at about five o’clock.

I put on the best dress I had, a simple dress, and I set out on foot crossing the city towards the church.

A storm was raging, so that I had to walk my way pushing my umbrella ahead of me.

I felt that it expressed the fact that in the step I was taking I would meet obstacles.

When I reached the church, the scene changed.

An enormous door opened. I felt a sense of relief and of welcome, almost like the open arms of that God who was waiting for me.

The little church was beautifully decorated.

Against the background stood out the statue of Mary, the Immaculate.

Before Communion I saw, in an instant, the meaning of what I was about to do.

I could never turn back to the world.

I was getting married. I was marrying God.

I remember that opening up my eyes to what I was doing was something immediate and brief, but so strong that I shed a tear which fell on my missal.

I made a long thanksgiving.

I think I ran all the way home.

I only stopped, I think, near the bishop’s house to buy three red carnations for the crucifix which was waiting for me in my room.

They were to become the sign of the feast day of all of us.

This was it.

Even with the most promising predictions on December 7, 1943, I could never have imagined what I see today.

Praise to God, glory to Mary, Queen of a Kingdom which has literally invaded the world.

Chiara Lubich
(Extract from “Today the Opera turns thirty”, Rocca di Papa, 7 December 1973)

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