I search for you, wounded soul, who are not yet dead but bleeding profusely. If I do not find you soon, your enemies will claim you forever and I will have lost another child. Yes, yet another. This need not happen but you must cry out and place my name on your lips, with words spoken from the heart. That will open the great door. Just a little opening is enough.

Such is my search. Where do I go? To the bars, to the houses of prostitution, to the places of greatest darkness, to homes torn asunder by evil. This is where I search. Do not say that I am far away. Do not think that you must find a church. I need hear only your cry for help. I will be your Good Samaritan bending over your bleeding soul, pouring out the medicine of grace.

Then I will take you to the Inn and place you with those who will care for you until you are spiritually strong.