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In February 1974 I stopped working at an office in Stamford, Connecticut, USA. It was a very difficult time for me for many different reasons, so I started to read a small New Testament that I brought from Italy and belonged to my Father when he was a child. I started to read it constantly especially after supper in order that I had nothing else to think about.

Reading about those miracles that Jesus did, about His life and His death my heart was comforted and I thought that if everything was really true it would have been easier to continue to have a life and overcome my state of distress. Curiously I never doubt the existence of my God even since childhood, I knew He existed and He loved me, but that is what I thought in those moments.

So I read The New Testament, all about Jesus, constantly over and over and over like it was my “last hope”.

Three months later, it was Friday May 10, 1974 (the date corresponded to the anniversary of my First Communion). I was making a novena to St. Jude, the Saint of the Impossible, I was reading my prayer and leaving it in Church, like it was custom.

Basilica of Saint John the Evangelist. 279 Atlantic St, Stamford, CT 06901.

That day in St. John Church in Atlantic Street, Stamford, Connecticut, USA. entering from the principal door on the left side, next to the 6th Station of the Cross where Veronica encountered Jesus leaving on her veil His true image, I was in distress.

I was crying and thoughts were coming to my mind as if they were preventing me to pray. I was acknowledging His power to intervene in every situation, to create everything out of nothing, stars, the universe, people just by His will. I was telling Him so.

The 6th Station of the Cross.

It was a Friday at 3:00 PM circa, (the next Sunday May 12 was Mothers’ Day and was my daughter’s first Communion). While I was there I had an intense desire to be in front the statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus but I did not move. So I looked up to Heaven in tears almost if asking for help and mercy and when I looked down slightly bowing my head, something else occurred, an involuntary fast drop of my head so fast and with a speed that had to be supernatural.

My head was bent but my eyes remained fixed in front of me, my prayer still in my hands, I was looking at the little Chapel of Our Lady and there He was!

Jesus, in His resurrected body of indescribable beauty a three dimensional body of solid light, of Infinite Majesty: The Glory of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

I said out loud in the Italian language: “Ma quello e il Sacro Cuore “, meaning: “But that One is the Sacred Heart”, I recognized Him in His Glory, my mouth spoke out loud, without me realizing that I was doing it. When I was a child in Italy we called Him Sacred Heart because there is only one Sacred Heart, the one of Jesus.

Colors and appearance very difficult to describe for their beauty everything was out of this world plus there was knowledge perceived in His presence. It was like: Seeing is Understanding.

I understood that the movement and the light was self-generated power, a LIVING LIGHT.

His garment was like burning coals but the colors were pure, there was no darkness in them, there was a slight movement in them like shimmering.

Praise the Lord, my soul. Lord my God, you are very great; you are clothed with splendor and majesty. The Lord wraps himself in light as with a garment; he stretches out the heavens like a tent
-Psalm 104: 1-2

He was tall in stature with square shoulders, an imposing figure, Majestic. He had a mantel that was like the glowing colors of the sun; only the colors of the sun are dirty, in comparison. The colors of His garment were “sfumati” they went from red to orange than yellow but the center of His body was pure white, the purest white. More I was looking and more the center of His body was moving with an intense speed and splendor I never knew possible, it was an upwards movement like intense lightning, electricity. I realized I was looking at ABSOLUTE PERFECTION AND POWER!

For our God is a consuming fire.
– Hebrew 12:29

His head was white difficult to describe it, His hair were white but very soft like wool, they were divided in the center, they were pulled back, shoulder length, His forehead was not high but a perfect rectangle, I admired that more than once.

His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow;…
– Rev 1:14,15

Than I had like a close up of His right cheek, His beard was scarce not full, I said out loud in Italian “Oh, e sbarbatello!” another typical Italian expression, meaning: “He did not have a thick beard”. His eyes were looking down like the statue in the Church.

His face only was changing in a very special way from a Majestic Powerful King and older man, to a younger man but they were the same person. Like a slow beautiful metamorphosis you see the older person becoming younger and the young becoming older, sometime both at the same time in one, but distinctly different and yet the same, one person. I will never be able to describe it with words.

I detected His arms under His garment straight down His side and a belt not too high. On the side of His heart there was a perfect horizontal cut from which was flowing blood the color was “alizarin crimson ” and I detected a golden-silver color glittering inside His blood, the drip was like a vertical line going down His garment.

And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood; and his name is called The word of God.
– Rev 19:13

I made a real effort to continue to look as long as I could, I did not want to stop because all was very beautiful. The Vision was enchanting, captivating but because my heart or my soul was coming out my chest like a pull or an explosion, difficult to say it was so painful, I could not sustain it.

I had to close my eyes and as soon as I close my eyes the pain instantly disappeared. When I looked again I said out loud in Italian: ” Ora ho visto ” meaning: “ Now I saw “. And He disappeared.