Personal reflection written during November of 1947

I am alone. Really alone this time, though among all the rest. No one understands me. My best friends have shown their opposition. They have confronted me face to face. All my plans are in danger. Everything seems dark.

I am alone, entirely alone. The door has just closed after the last painful conversation. The last friend has left after having brutally set his ego in opposition to mine.

Nonetheless, in order to carry out this enterprise, it will be necessary to have all my friends together, united together in communion. We were hardly advancing; shipwreck seemed immanent at any moment.

I am alone. Very alone. And it is here that God enters and takes command of the soul, raises it up, confirms it, consoles and fills it. Now I am no longer alone. The others will also return, without much delay; they will not abandon the hard work, the ship will not sink. Let’s return now quietly and gently to writing letters, preparing the lecture, correcting and writing. Life is still beautiful and God is here.

In these moments, go to your room.

Your room is a desert. Between the floor, the ceiling and the four walls there is nothing but you and God. Nature which enters through your windowpane does not disturb your colloquy but rather facilitates it. The world does not count for you; close your door to it and turn the key, for an hour. Recollect yourself and listen. God is here. He awaits you and speaks to you.

He is your God, great, beautiful, the One who comforts you, who illuminates you, who makes you understand that He loves you. He is ready to give Himself to you if you desire to give yourself to Him. Receive Him, do not reject Him. Do not run from Him, He is here. He awaits you and speaks to you.

This is the hour that He has chosen to find you. Do not go away. Listen well. You need Him and He also needs you for His work, to be able to do good to your brothers through you. He will give Himself generously to you, heart to heart, in this solitude.

From time to time your desert is your room, but you need God always. How can I recollect myself in intimacy with Him as the apostles once did when invited into the desert that they might be given greater intimacy with Christ?

Your desert is your will to never betray; it is your withdrawal from the world, your recollection in God; it is your unflagging hope. It is not necessary to search for a desert remote from men; you will find it everywhere if you fly to God; as much in the bus and in the plaza, as in the enormous assembly that awaits your words. Your desert is your separation from sin; it is your fidelity to your destiny, to your faith, to your love.