30 Am I Not Your Mother? America, covered with the tilma of his miseries. The Lady is Mary, who comes to tell us that she loves us—who comes to infuse the breath of life in us with her lips. Mary smiles at us as no one has ever smiled on earth and looks at us with a look so clean, so soft, and so deep that through her we gaze at heaven. She comes to tell us that she loves us. Listen: “My son, whom I love as a little and delicate one.” What treasures of purity, what heavenly gentleness, what outpourings of happiness did the Virgin put into that word of love when it was pronounced by her virgin lips! The message of love spread like a flash of glory throughout the Americas, surmounting the high Andes, crossing immense plains, and reaching the southern reaches of the continent. Our land was shaken and our oceans were silent before the majesty and sweetness of that word of love. The loving word pierced our hearts like a sharp arrow; it sunk into our nation, which cannot be healed from that deep wound of love. Our history will come with triumphs and defeats, with glory and with mourning, with tears and bitterness and songs of love. We will forget everything else, but we will never forget the love-song of Tepeyac. <>
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