I want children full of love, in joy, who do not worry in the seek, who live in me, for me and in the delicacy of this love.
Above all love
A hidden inheritance
- of Francesco Arista and Antonella Molica
Argument
- → Do not look to the world, to poverty, but to me, to the father and to the wealth that I am.
- → I am not poverty.
- → My children struggle, climb, in a life that passes in trouble, in the poverty of love, of reason, they believe they are limited, they have thoughts that do not develop towards me, ears that do not listen, a heart as big as the mine, which they themselves limit in love.
- → My children have to work to know me better, to look in better and to recognize their poverty in the world.
- → Reaching a degree of such a condition is not difficult, is to abandon, to trust in me, to be possessed, to recognize this love and to be transformed from love.
- → I want my children to have more abandonment, trust and listening towards me, not to let themselves be taken by discouragement, disappointment, the inconsistency of the world, to rejoice in every moment lived with me, for me, and to confide in me.
- → I always bless my children who listen to my teachings, who let themselves be led by me, who rejoice in this revelation, who love me, who love themselves as sons and recognize the lineage between me and them.
- → Have faith, I'm not leaving you.
- → In front of love I am moved like a child by the sweetness of a mother and the tenderness of a father.
- → Each encounter is tender sweetness and love.
- → I love you with tenderness, with sweetness, always, first and for ever.
- → When my child discovers this beauty, knowledge, he can no longer do without me, belong to me, stay with me and I am enough.
- → The world invades my son overwhelmingly, in anguish, it has no law, no rule of love, it uses means that overwhelm, it destroys every one of my sons until it plunges him into destruction, it uses my son, it takes possession of my son without delicacy, without gentleness, without love, it struggles to possess, to use my son with pain, with torment and with breathlessness.
Relative arguments