Maria Valtortta’s vision of the Assumption of Mary, Mother of Jesus

Maria Valtorta had more than one vision of Our Lady's Assumption. The following vision is a detailed one.

[I see the glorious Assumption of the Most Holy Mary.] I do not know where the beginning of the vision is. I would say in a house because, from the outside, I can see a sort of whitewashed cube that seems to be a little house.

I can see a crowd of angels come out of the roof — by that I mean the top part of the cube. The angels are luminous, handsome, and animated. They neither sing nor speak. They all seem to be absorbed in a loving occupation, which causes their faces to blaze with joy. Remaining in a bent posture, as though standing around a hole, they observe. Then they spread out their pearly wings and form two lines. Their smiles broaden and their lily-white, pearly, diamondy light turns brighter. It outshines the timid dawn that has barely cracked. The dawn seems to find it difficult to grow even though the sky is clear: it must be because the angels' heavenly light greatly surpasses it. I would say that the angels' light absorbs the dawn, as well as the rays from the last stars and the last moonbeams. The moon, still visible, is like a thin sickle in the sky that is turning lighter.

I have taken a long time to describe this part of the vision, but it seems to me that it lasted but a few moments. Then, like a wave overflowing a dam, an intense radiance flashes from the top of the white cube as angels' heads and wings and bodies of light surge with intense radiance. I can see our Mother in their midst. They are carrying Her in their arms; She seems like a child sleeping and dreaming sweet dreams.

She is completely dressed in white, or rather, the pearly grey of brand-new, very fine linen. She is wearing a coat, a veil, and a long train of fine linen that might be Her winding sheet. Her face is no darker than the linen. It seems made of magnolia buds, and only Her delicate eyelashes draw two somewhat dark commas on Her snow-white face. Her hands are joined on Her maternal womb, as high as the stomach, with Her fingertips pointing towards Her groins. Her hands seem to be shielding the womb which was sanctified by God's Incarnation. Her hands also seem to be magnolia petals lying on Her snowy clothing.

Mary seems asleep. Her head, leaning slightly to the right, is supported by an angel. He is filled with veneration, as befits someone carrying an important relic. A smile has remained on Mary's face. It may have been left behind by Her last loving thought.

Some of the angels rise, carrying the sacred Burden, while the others surround Her, forming a crown. Mary is being flown in the turquoise air towards the last stars and the pale moon. The world is not aware that its Queen is being taken to Her throne.

I can see the angelic cohort as it soars. The cohort's ranks are swollen by many angels coming down swiftly from the serene sky to meet them, in a holy haste to venerate their Queen. As the earth becomes more distant and Heaven, nearer, I can see... how small the earth is! It is a handful of dirty mud... As Heaven draws nearer, I can see that Mary is emerging from Her deep slumber and seems just about to awake. Her face slightly colours, as the face of someone coming to from a swoon. Her lips, parting as She begins to breathe more deeply, turn a redder hue.

The sky is completely pink in the east. The first sunbeam shines forth. It is not aimed at the earth but, flashing as lightning reaches the One being assumed in the sky. It embraces Her and clothes Her with a most delicate, coral-like glow at once yellowish and pinkish. It is a warm kiss calling Her warmly. Mary slowly opens Her sky-blue eyes, while the sky, so close to Her, surrounds Her with its blue depths. By now the handful of mud, the earth, is no longer visible. It has disappeared with all its miseries.

Mary's eyes are opened; She can see the angels... She smiles and sees the angels smile. She lifts Her eyes higher and higher until She sees God's glory. She stands up... The angels hardly need guide Her but remain around Her. It appears that She no longer needs. The angels are only spiritual servants surrounding Her to smile at Her.

Mary, standing straight, is happy. Her hands are crossed above Her, in an act of adoration. The cohort of angels sing in the midst of their now unbearable light.

At this point, Mary also is a dazzling light. Her veil, train and tunic no longer are linen: they are immaterial clothing spun from diamonds and embroidered with pearls, such as I always see on Her.

Her beauty is increased with indescribable majesty. She seems to be younger, eternally young. She is no older than Her Son and Lord.  In the angels' midst, Jesus is coming to greet Her. She seems to be Beauty at the side of Majesty.

The Heavens close behind the procession, which entered amidst incandescent flames of love and heavenly harmonies (Quad. 44, p.496-498 [July 8]).

(Taken from the book The Virgin Mary in the Writings of Maria Valtorta (2011), by Fr Gabriel M. Roschini O.S.M., Translated by Paul T. Y. Atworth, Centro Editoriale Valtortiano, pp. 385 – 387.)