If you want your dream to be, build it slow and surely. Small beginning, greater and heartfelt work grows purely. Welcome. This is David Russell and your faith anew. Daily reflections guiding you to live in the divine will. Today's reflection is from the Book of Heaven by the servant of God Louisa Picaretta, june third, eighteen ninety nine, volume two. Let us begin in the will and name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Jesus, when you seem hidden from our sight, help us to trust in your loving presence. Give us the grace to remain faithful in every trial and to embrace your divine will with confidence and peace. Amen. Saint Peter writes in his first letter chapter one verses eight and nine. Although you have not seen him, you love him. Even though you do not see him now, yet believe in him, you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy as you attain the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches in Paragraph eighteen seventeen Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit. In today's reading, Louisa experiences the hidden presence of Jesus amid deep affliction. Louisa writes This morning I was in a sea of affliction, for Jesus had not yet come. I felt such pain that I felt my heart being ripped out. When the confessor came to call me to obedience, for he had to celebrate Holy Mass, Jesus did not let even a shadow of himself be seen, as he usually does. In fact, when he does not come, he allows his hand or his arm to be seen, and especially on a day in which I receive communion as this morning, he himself comes, he purifies me and prepares me to receive him in the sacrament. I was saying to myself, Holy spouse, lovable Jesus, how is this? Aren't you coming to prepare me yourself? How can I receive you? But meanwhile, the time came, the confessor came, but Jesus did not come at all. What a harrowing pain. How many bitter tears? The confessor told me, You will see him at communion, and out of obedience you will ask him why he does not come and what he wants from you. So after communion I saw my good Jesus, always benign with this miserable sinner. He transported me outside of myself, and I was holding him in my arms. He was a child, all afflicted. Immediately I began to say My little child, my soul and only good, how is it that you do not come? And what have I offended you? What do you want from me that you make me cry so much? And in the act of saying this, my pain was so great that even though I was holding him in my arms I kept crying. But even before I finished speaking the last word, drawing his mouth close to mine, Jesus poured his bitternesses without answering a word. When he would stop pouring, I would begin speaking again, but Jesus would not pay attention to me and would begin to pour again. After this, without answering anything of what I wanted, he told me, let me pour into you, otherwise, just as I have destroyed other places with the hail, I will destroy your area. Therefore, let me pour, and do not think about anything else. He told me nothing else, and so it ended. One of the most difficult experiences in the spiritual life is the feeling that God is absent. We pray, we wait, we seek his presence, and yet heaven seems silent. That is precisely where we find Louisa today. Her suffering is not physical but spiritual. She longs for Jesus and cannot find him. She wonders whether she has offended him. She questions why he has not come as he usually does. Yet when Jesus finally appears, he does not answer her questions. Instead, he reveals that his apparent absence was part of a greater work. Jesus needed a soul willing to share in his suffering for the sake of others. This passage teaches us that God's purposes often extend far beyond what we can see. While Louisa was focused on her pain, Jesus was focused on protecting souls and pouring out mercy. What seemed like abandonment was actually a hidden participation in his redemptive work. The same can be true in our lives. There are times when prayer feels dry, when answers do not come, and when God seems distant. In those moments, we may be tempted to think that he has forgotten us, yet faith tells us otherwise. The Lord is often closest when he appears most hidden. Living in the divine will means trusting that every circumstance, even spiritual darkness, can become an opportunity for union with God. Instead of demanding explanations, we learn to surrender. Instead of focusing on what we do not understand, we focus on remaining faithful. Notice that Louisa continues to seek Jesus even through tears. She does not stop loving him. She does not stop desiring him. Her perseverance becomes an act of trust. Today, if you're carrying a burden, facing uncertainty, or enduring a period of spiritual dryness, remember this lesson. Jesus may be working in ways you cannot yet see. His silence does not mean his absence. His hiddenness does not mean he has stopped loving you. In the divine will, even our afflictions can become channels of grace when we place them into His hands. Let us pray. Jesus, when I cannot feel your presence, help me trust that you are near. When my prayers seem unanswered, strengthen my faith. When my sorrow weighs heavily upon my heart, remind me that you are working for my good and for the good of souls. Teach me to surrender my questions, my fears, and my sufferings to your divine will. May I remain faithful in every season of life, trusting that your love never leaves me and your providence never fails. Jesus, I place everything into your hands and rest in your holy will. Amen. Thank you for joining your faith anew today. May we learn to persevere in faith during times of darkness, confident that God is always at work, accomplishing his purposes with wisdom and love. Until tomorrow, stay in his will, and your faith will be made anew.