The Fisherman’s Widow

A poor fisherman, caught in the middle of the sea by a storm, was shipwrecked and perished in the waves. His unfortunate widow, anxious and grieving, waited for him for a long time on the shore… Finally understanding her misfortune, she returned to her home. Her despair was dull and deep. But suddenly, a thought came to suspend her burning tears: he was thrown on a distant coast; he will return tomorrow!… And she fell asleep with a peaceful sleep.

At dawn, she prepared a big fire, a good meal, the festive clothes, then went to the shore, sat on a cliff, and with her eyes turned towards the horizon, she waited. When evening came, she got up quietly and walked back to her poor house with a firm step, saying again: Tomorrow…

The pain, it was said, had made her crazy. But this sweet and calm madness was only in her hope. Was it really a madness?

For several years, the poor woman returned every day to sit confidently and quietly on her rock. There, she cast a long and sweet glance on the immensity, until beyond this limit where the sky and the water seem to merge and disappear in the infinity; and, under the power of a kind of charm, she waited…

One evening, she came to her usual place, and plunged into her usual ecstasy. But suddenly, she was seen to rush into someone’s arms, then to collapse on herself, her eyes closed, an ineffable smile on her lips… she was dead. The soul of the one she had been waiting for had undoubtedly come, in her last moments, to reward her perseverance and had taken her away.

My soul, you who love your God, love Him as this woman loved her husband; and when it seems to you that you have lost Him, conceive this foolish hope which will be a high wisdom, because the divine Spouse, He, is not dead; and when you would still have lost Him, your perseverance would bring Him back. Like the fisherman’s widow, do the works that should please him, prepare his house as if he were to come today, and every day in prayer, as on a rock, remain calm and persevering. Forget yourself, forget everything, cast your eyes into the infinite; wait, wait always; and, on retiring, if he has not yet come, repeat: Tomorrow…

Indeed, this tomorrow was the last, the Spouse will come, and his sweet embrace will make you understand that these blessed hours were the sublime ecstasy of the pure faith, of the holy hope, of the perfect charity that has ravished his soul and unites him to you forever.