Testimony of faith.  The fervor rediscovered

Testimony of faith. The fervor rediscovered

My life of faith has gone through many ups and downs. Every evening, on the farm where I grew up, my parents gathered us (we were 14 children), them on a chair, us on our knees around the fireplace, for prayer: we said the Our Father, the I Hail Mary, I believe in God. We also recited acts of faith, charity and hope. Of course, we went to mass on Sunday. But my marriage interrupted my practice: I felt at fault for having married a man divorced from his first wife. I raised his son like the other two boys we had. On Sundays, I saw my neighbors going to mass, and it broke my heart not to be able to accompany them. I no longer prayed. But when our second made his first communion, I went to see the parish priest: “I would like to receive communion to accompany my Pascal…” And I told him my story, my fear of coming to church. He relaunched me in the life of faith: “Communicate, commune as often as possible! »

Resuming the practice of the sacraments – reconciliation and the Eucharist – has done me so much good! Faith invaded me. Only recently, my fervor was stimulated. It was January 11th. Crossing my room towards my prayer corner, I don't know why, I turned around. A small image of the Sacred Heart was on the ground. Oh, I felt looked at by Jesus! This image differs from other representations of the Sacred Heart: Jesus shows me his heart with his right hand and his head leans to the same side. Had the image fallen out of one of my books? In any case, I had never seen it! I quickly picked it up and recited an I believe in God, confused: was it pride to see there a “miracle” just for me?

Since that day, I have constantly had “My own Jesus” before my eyes. How many prayers have I addressed to him! In the morning, my first word is for “My Jesus”. To him who suffered, I offer my day. I ask him to help me be kind to everyone. Since then, I have prayed more. I try to shine around me, without imposing myself, simply by my way of being.

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