In the light of that sinister prophecy of Simeon, the sorrowful Mother saw the somber picture of her Son's passion. She bowed her head gently, as a reed bends in the wind of a storm, and she felt a double-edged sword plunge into her womb. From that moment, all happiness ended for her, and accepting the divine disposition without complaint, she brought her lips close to the chalice that she would drink during her entire life.
When she held her Son in her arms; Simeon's words shed drops of gall... Mary was not granted what is given to all mothers: to enjoy in peace the love of her child and to indemnify herself from the rigors of fate with a smile on her lips ajar by innocence. She saw written on Jesus' forehead at all hours the sentence of death that men would carry out against Him as a reward for His benefits. That gloomy idea surprised her in her sleep, bothered her when she was awake, haunted her during work, and disturbed her during her few hours of rest. Jesus' robe, woven by her own hands, before being dyed with the blood of her Son, was soaked in the tears of the Mother.
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