Oh my son

That’s how I have been called by the man who had in
his flesh the visible wounds of an invisible cross.
He climbed the cross and stayed there for 50 years and
would have stayed there until the end of the world.
With his prayer he has been the sign of faith.
With his immolation he has been the sign of faith of
the demanding Christian hope.
With his charity he has made the infinite love of the
Heart of Jesus visible.
From his eyes, often red from crying, a light irradi-
ated, which allowed him to read even in the most intricate
conscience, like an open book.
That reading then was transformed into a confession
made out loud, if that was for the good of the soul before
him.
He sounded as the prophet, who becomes God’s voice
in order to shake and save souls.
He was ready to smile and joke to cheer up friends and
brothers in the very rare moments of rest.
His heart, open and bleeding as that of Jesus on the
Cross, was the loving shelter for all, both saints and sin-
ners.
His love was beyond any conceivable imagination.
He no longer lived for himself. He was the living im-
age of Jesus.
As a reward for the love and sorrow which made him
pine away, Jesus allowed him to melt his priestly heart
with that of his own as Saviour of the world.
He walked his whole life in the desert without any
shelter and in the mystical darkness without walls, in order
to accompany, support and lead his many brothers which
God has entrusted him with.
The Church showed its cautiousness to define him but
in the end it was the only authorized voice to decree in
an infallible manner the exemplarity of his life, the heroic
nature of his virtue, the similarity to Christ, the merit of
humility before God and, an unreserved obedience to the
holy authority.
Jesus made him a martyr. The Church proclaimed him
Saint. God’s people made him a refuge for all our sorrows
and all our hopes.
To me, he is a Father, a Teacher, a Brother and a Friend.
He is God precious gift to my life.
Unworthy, I was also made his “honorary” fellow citi-
zen. Thank you, Padre Pio. Thank you, Pietrelcina.

P.G. Alimonti OFM cap, My days with P. Pio, pp 7,8