To my little Mother “Agnes of Jesus”
[She had asked me to resume the story of my life since 1909.]
My darling mother,
On your advice, I have just reread the manuscript which, at her request, I sent to Mother Marie-Ange in 1909. than looking back.
The portrait is similar, it is indeed me, but there are repetitions and a whole forest of considerations which have tired me, me who, from this writing, has wandered for 22 years and whose thoughts and impressions are simplified on everything I have seen and understood in the past. I would need the courage to eliminate a good part of it. Already in 1920, I had made useful corrections. It's not surprising that he needed it, I had written it little by little, in my rare spare time, and without ever reading it again. It seemed to me that practicing this release, the Blessed Virgin to whom I had entrusted the work, would come to my aid more directly.
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And now, here I am considering another period of my existence almost as long as the life of our little Thérèse! There would be a lot to say if we wanted to go into the details of what happened. There have been great works, great joys and great sorrows. How not to think that it was so! – For a ball to bounce very high, shouldn't it be thrown very low and violently?
Looking at our family life, we already see Jesus not only "pushing his ball with his foot and rolling it around a corner", but letting it fall into the bottom of an abyss... Later, he still acts same way, which is his own, if we consider his human life, his death and the history of his Church. Add to the direct action of Jesus, the jealousy of the demon on us, to hinder the divine work by all the means in his power, and we will come to foresee what were crossed, in any case, these 22 years who were to see "the ball of Jesus" bouncing so high! I mean his triumph by that of his little wife, Thérèse.
My intimate feelings relative to this triumph of Jesus, you know them, my Mother, moreover do they not merge with yours which you have so well
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expressed and which are the echo of my people?... I will therefore content myself with casting a quick glance at certain particularities of my outer life and my inner life, the trials of which could, although being of a completely different nature, to match those that I had suffered in the past: it was still a "furnace" that I had to go through. As for my intimate feelings, I won't dwell on them much either, having recorded some of them in the little notebooks in our writing desk and in several letters that I have addressed to you, my darling little Mother.
Shall I speak of the great works for the two Trials which marked this phase of our life forever? So much writing, so much labor in these various procedures, from such humble beginnings to complete completion. St Paul is not wrong to cite 'the works' among the number of his 'trials'… And yet who will complain about that!
These works were, in fact, undertaken and carried out with joy and courage. It's not surprising, because the goal was so noble, so great: we saw there the way to glorify the good God, to make him loved and understood by the multitude of little souls who fill the universe.
Also, I declared it to the Ecclesiastical Tribunal.
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“It was not my sister that I wanted to raise to the altars, but the instrument which the good Lord had used to show souls “the way of spiritual childhood”, so that it would produce all the purpose for which it was created”.
At this word, I made jump all the venerable Judges. The Promoter of the Faith told me that 'if I wanted to put the Trial in the water, I had only to speak "of the Way" I replied simply 'that I could not say anything other than what I knew , that if the Trial were to fail, it would fail', and I stood firm. It was not without small humiliations… and without suffering from finding myself in front of examiners, I who had always refused 'to pass my patent to avoid this nightmare'. It was very painful for me also to discuss with them and to resist them, because I am rather shy. They called me 'Sister: I want' and apprehended me because I gave them a lot of trouble. Also, my Mother, you guess my happiness in reading the speech of Benedict XV, August 14, 1921. This happiness exceeded, I believe, all those who followed because, that day was, so to speak, the Canonization of the Little Way, what I wanted above all else.
Another work which required us long efforts, it was to set up the small book of the Way of Childhood
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Spiritual, in paintings. Seven years passed in postulating this work as Jacob did in obtaining Rachel. It is indeed a hundred times that the work is put back on the loom. Each year we tried out our ideas in projection and it was to arrive at the final views that I shot, painted and doubled more than 400 shots that were later thrown into the bucket to be stripped. It is true that we lead the life of our little Saint, in images, and the series of Miracles. I then needed a lot of patience and perseverance, because you were the judge, dear little Mother, I was the humble worker and all these new beginnings did not always happen without shedding tears...
I also took care of the little popular life of the time: “l'Appel”. – Then, I composed the manuscript of the “Life for Children”, which the RP Carbonel kindly corrected by putting his name there. – Finally, before the Beatification, long before, the book of “the Spirit” haunted my mind. Having noticed that the preachers rarely quoted our Saint, I said to myself that it was for lack of having discovered the treasures hidden in the Story of a Soul, too exquisite by itself, 'a perfume is not defined ', you said it, my little Mother. It was therefore necessary, in a way, to dissect it, to put the virtues
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in separate sheaves: lilies with lilies, roses with roses, cornflowers with cornflowers, daisies with daisies, etc. It was from this initial idea that I drew up the plan for the work. Then I made it a point to proofread all the originals and, as a thought fit with the titles I had chosen, I transcribed it on the special sheet for later, coordinating them all. It was “Roman's work” which took several years, because I only took care of it on the sly, in my spare time.
When the manuscript was finished, it was given to Mr. Dubosq who kept it for two years without touching it, he hadn't even leafed through it. Finally, by dint of insistence, he set to work and it is thanks to his help and that of the Sisters who helped me with their corrections that this volume became what it is today. I had acted like a good mother who makes no sacrifices to give her son Masters worthy of the rank she wants him to occupy.
I will never be able to say what trouble I had in perfecting these simple pages, I said then that, if I had known before undertaking it, I would not have had the courage. But now everything
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that is over, I do not regret my pain as this book has done good and helped the priests to know and make known our Saint. I had a proof of the wrong that we had done by him, to the demon, when, correcting the proofs of the 2nd edition, I heard, near our work table, like a big beast exhausted with fatigue, which was blowing painfully in crawling on the ground.
I have spoken elsewhere of my drawing and painting work for our little Thérèse which, except for the last portraits, were all done in my spare time. Finally, I must also note there, in addition to the Holy Face, my other studies on the Holy Shroud: the Crucifix and the scourged Jesus, the execution of which was particularly laborious and painful, because my little Mother, you did not follow me in this work. supererogation that you had trouble understanding. Jesus wanted it that way, I'm sure, so that I have all the merit in it, in addition to fatigue.
As for our work illustrating the works of our little Thérèse, the contradictions came from our family... But they weren't just attacking them, it was all our undertakings for the cause that were thwarted, what was a big test for us, it was the ball which followed us
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everywhere and weighed down our impulses. This, not to mention the contradictions from the outside which we did not miss. One would have said, as in the Apocalypse, 'the dragon sitting on the shore waiting for the fruits of our initiatives to devour them immediately'.
God alone knows our battles and the various battlefields on which they took place... Even the attacks against our Saint and against her family, living or dead, were not spared us, as you know, my little Mother, and we could say, like St. Paul, that we have suffered perils: 'on the side of the false brothers, on the side of the thieves' etc.. etc. because the latter did not fail to play their role either. Yes, we went through many tribulations before reaching the goal we wanted to reach and no less, after...
But, I take up the story of my outside personal life which was, as we can see, very very busy, not to mention the time given to the constructions and the various arrangements both here and in Alençon, and even the supervision of architects and artists, as much for the numerous statues as for the innumerable drawings, which most often had to be guided, so much so that they were obliged to withdraw all employment from me as of 1915, except however the obediences and common works. –I except
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the use of photography, for the reproduction, which I edited from top to bottom and which kept me very busy for a long time, so much so that they even had to enlist a helper. – Regarding the painting work, I forgot to say that it was when I was sacristan that I painted the life of Our Lord and that of the Blessed Virgin on two ornaments as well as medallions on several stoles and on a conopée. But, this time, it was on the job time.
Among my other works, I must also give a small memory to the enshrinements of the Relics, from the most modest showcase of the beginnings to the final apotheosis: placing my dear little Thérèse in her Shrine!...
We are often surprised that we have kept so many things from her. This is due first to the high esteem we had for his virtue, foreseeing without realizing it, what happened, and also undoubtedly, a little, to my conservative character: throwing something away rarely finds favor in my eyes. , (I still use the blotter that I had in school 50 years ago, it is not for the attachment that I have for it, because I would have liked it to be replaced! Sr Marie du SC gave me another in his fifties) it always seems to me that one time or another we can use discarded objects. Despite this, before entering Carmel, I gave many of our little saint's clothes and several things for her use that I now very much regret.
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Fortunately, the good Lord helped me to make use of those that remained to us, that was my role. In the past, I already had a taste for restoring, for transforming and my little Thérèse said when she saw me, for example, repairing by transforming them fake flowers that had been discarded: "This is how the good Lord will with us, he will use what is damaged, deteriorated in our soul to restore it to its first state and much better still. It gives him much more pleasure than creating. »
Because of these arrangements for the decor, I was put to work arranging the flowers of the beds for the Taking of the Habit and the Profession of the Novices, and this for a very long time until I could no longer bend down or kneel. easily. Then, for a long time, they also asked for my help to do the crèche so that 10 years after leaving the novitiate, I was doing it
Again.
O my little Mother, how much I have worked and experienced in my long life! I had time to see almost all my works come to life and die. Like the psalmist: 'I have seen the end of all perfection'.
In the beginning, I worked on the portraits of our
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little Thérèse on paper, with a stump, and having noticed that the paper was pitting, I painted on canvas, but one day or another the canvas was pierced or cracked, so I painted on panels, other setbacks, it was the moldy paint. In the garden, it's the same thing: Sr Marie du Sacré-Coeur and I planted trees that we thought we were seeing grow, they matured so well that many died and we had to change the very layout of the aisles to meet the new needs created by the times.
No, nothing stays in the same state for long, everything changes both temporally and spiritually, and I always seemed to be in the midst of ruins. What joy when ruin has come to my tent! I look left and right to see which side it might be damaged, but find none. It seems to me that I am eternal and if time seems to me to fly away with the speed of lightning, my life in itself seems to me to count more than 1000 years like Methuselah! I believe I have always been on earth and that death is not made for me.
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I confess to you, my dear little Mother, that I have not always taken this ordeal of divine delays with a good heart, which belies the promises of my Thérèse concerning the eternal reunion, which she had announced to me at short notice. But after all, the Apostles did indeed preach the end of the world and the imminent Advent of the Judge of the Living and the dead. Up there, time does not matter like on earth.
Be that as it may, this ordeal of waiting has been and still is very painful to me, because "my soul aspires more ardently towards God than the sentinels wait for the dawn... Ps. 129 I will say again to the Lord: draw my soul from the bond in which I am confined so that I may bless your name, Ps. 141. – O my Jesus! when will it be granted to me to see you, to contemplate the glory of your reign? when will I be with you in this kingdom that you have prepared from all eternity for your chosen ones? I am abandoned, poor, exiled in an enemy land… I would like to unite myself intimately with you, Im 48. My soul burns with an ardent thirst for the strong God, for the living God, when will I go to him, when will I enjoy his presence? Again, yes again, I will feed on my tears day and night” Ps. 41……………”
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But, I did not want this trial to be fruitless, I often offer it to Jesus as compensation for the indifference of creatures for the eternal life he promises us. Thus, he will be compensated for the lack of eagerness that certain souls show him in Heaven, he will forget his pain at being so little desired by children he loves so much and the faults of many too attached to the earth will be expiated. . Yes, I place myself in front of the immense crowd of worldlings and it seems to me that Jesus is deceived by my sighs, believing me to be the echo of all hearts, and he is happy.
It is with astonishment, in fact, that I listen to the language that is commonly heard around us and that we ourselves use on occasion. When a patient is better, we exclaim: “He is saved! Saved from what, my God? But… to be reunited in Heaven!! If the good Lord did not know us, there would be reason to find us insane, because we are.
I spoke earlier of inspecting my tent, which still seems new and resistant to me: “The evils that have visited me were not fatal. So I have always suffered from fasting in the evening
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not because of the lack of food, but because of the kind of food. Then, I had a lot of rheumatism which, for a long time, made me spend many sleepless nights where I only moaned in a low voice. So much so that, to give me some relief, they had to make me leave the cell of our little saint, which I had occupied for more than 15 years. This cell was, in fact, quite often visited at that time when we brought in the bishops; and, on the other hand, it became more suitable not to live there. So at the end of 1913 I took over our old and very first cell, which I never left. (Ste Mechtilde, on the terrace). When I entered the Carmel this cell had no partition, it was only one room. – When I returned in 1, it had been split in two. – In the time of St Thérèse, the Chapter's dormitory was called “St Elie's dormitory”, because of a statue of our blessed father which was on a credenza where the portrait of our Saint is now. I had a great devotion to St. Elijah because he was "devoured with the zeal of God." Also noteworthy among 'my miseries' is the inflammation of the soles of the feet from which I suffered a great deal and for a long time.
It was a little later, in November 1916, that I also took back my name 'de la Sainte Face'. – Since I had painted the Holy Face spread throughout the world, many people gave me this name on their own and this created confusion from which one could not escape. Besides, it was thought that I had acquired this title of nobility, which I had never left, since it figured in the formula of my vows. At that time, I therefore began to sign Sr Geneviève de la Ste Face et de Ste Thérèse. Oh !
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how well this name 'of the Holy Face' corresponded to my aspirations! It is the sight of this beloved Face that made me endure exile. To be able to look at Jesus, to know him a little from here below was my Heaven…
But I realize that if I talked about my work, I said nothing about the salary I received from it. One might think that "the works of my hands" had brought me praise and privileges, but it was not, I was neglected, humiliated in all encounters. Often, very often then, I reread this passage from the Imitation, believing it to be writing for me: “we will listen to what others say, what you say will be counted for nothing; they will be exalted, they will be entrusted with this or that employment and you will be judged fit for nothing. - (It is about Sr Marie-Ange and Sr Isabelle who, very young, were surrounded with confidence and honor…)
If anyone other than you, my Mother, read these lines, they would protest, because from that time on I was believed to be a 'counsellor', if not by title, at least by fact. However, what I say is quite true….. But, should I complain about these setbacks, I whom my dear Thérèse had consecrated to the Holy Face “whose face was hidden!...” And, don’t had she not once written: "I thought that my Céline should be and always remain a little drop of
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dew hidden in the divine corolla of the beautiful lily of the Valleys, no human gaze should discover it there... The only chalice which possesses the small droplet will experience its freshness. (April 25, 93)
The state of misfortune of which I speak extended even to my personal undertakings. One day, concerning a work on the life of Our Lord, you took pity on me, my little Mother, and you consoled me for all my failures by pointing out to me that it was a design of Jesus. on my soul which suffered me no human support.
Finally, in the smallest things as in the greatest, the difficulties were as it were increased for me, one would have said that "an angel of Satan had been given to me, no longer to slap me, but to thwart me." The Sisters laughed and teased me in a friendly way, pretending to distance themselves from me when I undertook something. It is still the same today.
Yes, I was following a "humbled way." Thus, according to a false interpretation of the Ceremonial, believing that a 3rd Sister had neither voice nor session at the Chapter, I was made to withdraw, after having said my culpes, with the Sisters of the white veil and the novices. This took place until
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only in 1915, that is to say 16 years after my leaving the Novitiate. I had seen several generations of novices pass as Capitulants without ever knowing the secrets of the venerable assembly, nor hearing the instructions of the Mother Prioress at the receptions of the subjects. I can say that this deprivation was extremely painful to me at certain times, I would have liked so much to attend your delicious instructions, my darling little Mother...
So, since the end of 1915 when a particular circumstance opened the eyes of the Superiors, I had a 'session' in the chapter, but it was only recently, in October 1929, that I was also recognized as a 'vocable'. Because our Father General, consulted on the question, affirmed that every professed person has, by right, 'sitting and voice'; that, if one did not want to grant it to a third Sister, one should not receive it.
In this regard, I am going to recall a detail, forgotten in the pages addressed to Mother Marie-Ange. – At the time of receiving me for Profession, several Mothers and Sisters made every effort to send me on Missions. Later, when our Thérèse could not go there, being too ill, it was decided first that it would be me alone who would leave, then you, my little Mother, with me. This last project was about
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to succeed. Finally, a foundation to take place in Constantinople and subjects from Lisieux having been requested, it was a question of sending me there. – At all costs, they wanted to separate us after having reunited us. But since it was not the creatures who had gathered us in one place, but the Lord alone, it was His designs (to work for the Cause of our Saint… note from 1954) that prevailed and the machinations of men were reduced to nothing.
To return to my little personal humiliations, if I suffered from them, I enjoyed them even more. Because I so ardently desired to acquire the beautiful virtue of humility that 'all the riches of my house given to possess it seemed to me nothing', because, as you know, my Mother: "When I was still young I prayed openly to obtain this virtue, I asked for it in front of the temple; seeing its flower, as at the sight of the bunch that takes on color, my heart rejoiced in it…” (Ecclé.)
However, it is time for me to come, "not to the visions of the Lord, "like St. kingdom. Strangely enough, they didn't
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not asked if I had time to receive them! They penetrated there as intruders and it was necessary, willingly or unwillingly, to undergo them.
The most painful of all was a terrible and long temptation against confidence in God... this treasure so pure, so delicate which, in spite of the storms, had never been touched. This test exceeded the others in acuteness because in the others the good God was with me, while, in this one, he had become my enemy, it was against Him that I blamed Him, against Him that I I did not have. O my little Mother! it was atrocious for me who loved him so much! .. Also, I give up depicting my anxieties which lasted two years without stopping and seven years when the temptation was in me like a bad bottom that I had to keep myself from shake…
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I didn't know what to say and say again in the moment of danger: “My God, I trust you! » To which a cursed voice replied: « It's not true! ironic voice that I fought with my invocation mechanically repeated hundreds of times. Then I begged the good Lord not to allow me to offend him, and I said to Jesus: "So many souls,
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O my God, have hard feelings towards you, they are angry with you, impute to you what does not turn out to their liking, well, accept this same martyrdom that a heart that loves you undergoes and forgive them! Yes, I want to stay in this hell so that their hearts open to trust! »
This feeling was sometimes very strong in me. I thought that Jesus continued his passion in each of his chosen ones and, as he himself had clothed himself in sin to draw upon us the compassion of his Father, so he sometimes wanted souls whom he cherishes to endorse, in somehow, the clothes of sinners in order to be forced to forgive them.
However, this consolation of feeling my ordeal fruitful was only given to me later and always briefly. As for the consolations of creatures, they were absolutely lacking to me and I can say in all truth: "I looked to my right and to my left if there was anyone to help me and I found no one who knows me. »
There was hardly any clearing in my dark clouds, just the essential so that I
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does not succumb under the effort, because as soon as the grace passed, there remained no trace of it. And yet, I received very large ones. It was thus that in the month of March 1910, throughout Holy Week, I was very far from earth… As for Thérèse, 'there was a veil thrown over all things here below.' In the evening, while doing my Stations of the Cross, I felt like transports of Love: often, during the day, my tears flowed thinking of Jesus and I had to keep his memory away from me.
Ah! it is that Jesus, like an impetuous torrent had overflowed in his little wife, and I believe that it is hardly possible for him to do greater perceptible graces in this world, without taking away the material life of his little Victims.
As you can imagine, Mother, I emerged from this bath strong and generous. But this strength I felt was short-lived and soon I found myself again plunged into the abysses of desolation of which I spoke, this time not to come out again for many months. In vain, I called my Thérèse to help me, she was deaf to my voice. One morning I saw her in a dream, it was August 2
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1910, a quarter of an hour before the alarm clock.
She was dressed as a Carmelite with her cloak and walked quickly along a path of indefinable sadness, it was agonizing. I followed her, but she was walking so fast that I couldn't get ahead of her and, although I was near her, I only saw her from behind. Besides, I couldn't see her face, because she had the veil down. – While walking by her side, I begged her to speak to me, showing her a thousand affections, but she continued on her way in silence. Finally, I said to her, all worried: "Since you don't console me, is it that my sufferings bear no proportion to their merit?" At that moment, she nodded and disappeared.
I woke up immediately and thought that I had to inspire myself with a new courage, without asking for the end of this ordeal since it was willed by God to such an extent that Thérèse herself did not have permission to leave me. there to console. Only, the certainty that she was leading me and that we were walking very quickly towards a goal known to God, never ceased to comfort me and, since then, I have often thought of
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this dream to exhort me to patience in the midst of my tribulations.
Alas! should it be said? the tribulations increasing, this help was small and, from the month of 7ber, Thérèse urged Mother Carmela (of Gallipoli) to write to me, to speak to me in her name. I received this letter on the 20th of September of this same year, 9. When I went to fetch it from your depot, my Mother, I found it filled with a pleasant smell of incense. It was my little Sister who told me over there, to pay attention to these lines, dictated by her:
“Make sure, said the missive, that Thérèse cannot deny you anything!... She will know how to keep the promise that she always made to you when she was here below... She wants from you a total and generous abandonment of your spirit in the Heart of Jesus. She wants you, forgetting yourself, to be very useful to a large number of souls who, with their religious indifference, give bitterness to the Heart of Jesus, this Sacred Heart needs you, your oblation for the conversion of many souls… Finally, she wants you to be a great Saint! Be generous with God, my good and dear sister, He loves you enough, enough and, in your heart, He rests as in a bed of lilies!! »
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Reading this page, I was seized. Nobody in the world but you, my little Mother, knew my intimate trials, I had never corresponded with Mother Carmela and her letter answered everything: she assured me that I was loved up there, she stimulated me to zeal souls, she assured me that it was to save them that Jesus left me on earth, she encouraged me to be generous in order to give him a lot. Finally, she gave me the assurance that lilies were planted in my heart… What more could you want? I copied these lines and carried them with me to reread them often; but as always, the consolation was short-lived. Jesus made sure to withdraw 'his ember' from the cursed fire in time, each time the danger was serious, without removing him for that from the rage of the demon.
It was two months later that I fell seriously ill (from a double pulmonary congestion), without dying, as I had every reason to hope, and my inner ordeal was greatly increased. It lasted thus another year and I found myself in February of the following year still in the same state.
It was then that on the morning of February 5, 1912,
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anniversary of my Taking the Habit, my dear little Thérèse came again to comfort me. The day before I had fallen asleep with my eyes bathed in tears and I dreamed that my darling sister was very close to me and that my pillow exhaled an intense perfume of mock orange, when suddenly I was awakened by a beating of wings. Then I distinctly heard in my ears the sound of a dove alighting on the pillow. It was so clear, so distinct that I did not doubt the reality of the fact and looked at my side, but I saw nothing. Only, I felt in my heart a heavenly sweetness that made all my sadness vanish.
However, my Thérèse's expressions of affection for her poor, afflicted sister were not to stop there. The divine instruction seemed relaxed about me and, for more than a month, from the beginning of Lent of that same year until Easter, it never stopped visiting me with perfumes: sometimes it was the seringat which means "love fraternal", sometimes the orange tree "the wedding flower". These fragrant scents were renewed several times a day, when I least thought of them, so that the very persistence of the phenomenon did not leave a mark.
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impress me a bit.
Meanwhile, she was gently instructing my soul. Here, my little Mother, are some of my thoughts at that time and since, when my ordeal was bearable, only becoming acute again at certain times.
On the subject of predestination, a question which always distresses me, I thought and I still think with certainty that not only does God love those who love him, since "it is he who first loved us", but that he loves those of a favorite love, which often, it is true, is not expressed in our eyes, at least in the same way. I looked in nature for the answer to this problem, because the Lord has placed here below the image of his judgments and whoever seeks them finds them.
Taking then a comparison, I transported myself, by thought, in a family. I have seen the father relying on his eldest son to take care of his affairs, proud of the second who, having gone to war, covered himself with glory. I saw him happy in the company of his daughter who charmed his hearth, I watched him leaning with delight over the cradle of a new-born child, after having made another happy cherub jump on his lap. – This father, I say to myself, loves all his children
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also, as to tenderness and yet this love is varied as to feelings. He is attached to one as much as to the other, but the manner of holding on to it is different! To some he gives a love of protection, to others a love of gratitude, some help him, others excite his admiration while the latter charms his life with joyful songs and delicate attentions, while the very cries of all -little ones have attractions for his heart.
No, there is no reason to believe oneself abandoned, forgotten, by a Jesus who gave his life for each of us. When, among those who have surrendered themselves to Him, some seem more privileged, others less, it is the effect of a love varied in its forms, varied also in the pleasure that each one causes him. It is infinite and nothing exhausts it, it does not repeat itself. So, he reserves for me, for me, manifestations of love that he has never given and will never give to anyone, and I will give him special pleasures that he will only find in me… O my God ! so all you have to do is abandon yourself completely to your tenderness since everything turns out "for the good of those who love you" and for your pleasure!...
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Also, I am willing to be apparently a little Esau – In my ordeal, this word from Scripture: “I loved Jacob and I hated Esau” kept coming back to trouble me. – was he not, despite his faults, his father's favourite? and, if you, my God, had rejected him, what would you have done if he had tried all the same to draw your love upon himself, in spite of yourself?... So why should my hope be rash? Have you not blessed your servant Job more than all those who loved you, this man of the descent of Esau of whom you were so proud! Perhaps there will also be found in me a disposition of the heart that you will have put, which will delight yours and I too will be blessed and loved!...
My darling little Mother, what I still think is that, if we were given the choice, it is the most painful part that should be the most envied, since St Paul says: "It is a grace that God gives us not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him. It is quite certain, in fact, that it is by the sacrifice of oneself that love is proved and not by the sacrifice of foreign victims, of gifts outside of us. This is why the good Lord did not send anyone in his place and why he himself came to earth where he did not spare himself, where he did not spare his Mother,
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leaving it to grow old in the ordeal.
The divine Gardener, in creating nature, reserved special care for each of the plants that he caused to germinate there: some grow in light soil, others in sand, others between stones, while for some, it you need a fertilizer so strong that the roots are warmed up and burnt
To our eyes, the tender flower that grows quickly in delicate soil may seem more privileged than the one that comes slowly, pruned and recut, the roots plunged into the arid soil, and yet our Jesus "rose like a frail shrub, like an offshoot out of a parched earth, he had neither form nor beauty..." more than that "it pleased Jehovah to break him through suffering..." - A frail sapling, broken, in a parched ground, this is where my Spouse has gone, and I, his companion, would like another land, another appearance?
Ah! I am mad when I cast a look of envy on what the good Lord gives to others, or when I try to scrutinize the merit, the value of our actions. Only one matters, it is Love, which translates into conformity to the will of the Lord, whatever
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hard to accomplish as it seems: "The happier the flowers are to do his will," says Thérèse, "the more perfect they are." »
Yes, that's what I thought when the trouble had ceased. I also acted like Esther, entrusting Aegeus with the choice of the ornaments she should put on to present herself before the king and, giving myself up to Thérèse, I abandoned myself to her, without wanting to choose the adornment that would make me pleasing to Jesus.
Since I have related certain supernatural manifestations relating to my ordeal, I cannot omit one which took place 4 years later. In this interval of time there was a succession of calm and trouble and my inner life can be summed up in this way. – Without doubt, I was certain that the good Lord loved me, he gave me proofs of it and, like the psalmist, “it would be impossible for me to enumerate his benefits, because I do not know the number of them. » ; but as I said above, when the storm rumbled I no longer remembered anything and it was in pure faith that I blessed the Lord.
Here is what happened to me on January 28, 1916. It was more than 10 years since I had been the object of such visits.
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I woke up at 3 a.m. ½ in the morning without being able to go back to sleep. I was calm and sad, I felt that the demon was tempting me on trust, he blamed me for everything in my life, even indifferent things and whispered to me that God would end up abandoning me. I was praying saying, “My God, have mercy on me! Love me without my deserving it and save me by mercy!...”
At 5:XNUMX a.m.; I heard the Angelus ringing at the parish and, a little later, I dozed for a few minutes, but not deeply enough to lose consciousness of what was going on around me. During this rest, I saw at my side a little ghost which I chased away easily, with signs of the cross; but as he went away he grew bigger and when he was older he leapt on top of me and hugged me so painfully that I woke up from this half-sleep and opened my eyes as I pulled myself out of the 'embrace.
It was then that I saw our cell lit up with a gloomy glow. Next to my bed, very close, there was like a more intense reddish core, in which diabolical silhouettes were collapsing. The glow remained for some time after the demons disappeared and I found myself in darkness (The scene took place at the very place where I had heard the noise the day before my Profession).
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From that moment, the ordeal from which I had suffered for so long and which had made me shed, in the secret of such bitter tears, exhausted as I was by this inexplicable fight, this ordeal gradually weakened, to finally disappear completely.
That, my dear Mother, is where your little girl went. It is often that she was called to fight in the arena. Should I complain that my name came out in preference to so many others? I do not believe that. - Oh ! how grateful I am to Jesus, for if the path has been dark, the ravines dangerous and the wind icy, I am enjoying at this moment, not "the reward promised to those who fight courageously", I have been too weak ; but I rejoice "to have found life and drawn salvation from the goodness of the Lord." (Prov. 8)
And now, I have arrived at old age where I experience that I have had no experience being still so young, so enthusiastic, so naive, so childish. At my age (nearly 62), I'm not jaded, and the slightest little thing gives me great pleasure. Wouldn't it be in me that my Thérèse was accomplishing what she had once said: "Even if I lived to be 80, I would always manage to remain a little child,
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and, I feel it, I would not be older than today. »
In fact, I believe that for my character and my way of going to the good Lord, they could take 60 off my age and leave me only 2, it would be better that way in the truth.
And yet, how to combine these contrasts? the old age into which I entered – like all old ages for that matter – involves a certain sadness, an anguish which invades the soul as if in fits and starts. This suffering for me is without reasoning, without defined thought, it is rather an impression, a fear of the void, of the unknown. And I who love the good God so much and who desire death so much to go to Him!!
But, I found a great way to react. I take the assault at will and I say: "What good fortune, O my Jesus, to be thus associated with your agony in the Garden of Olives, that I am so happy and proud of my fate!" - So, it's almost immediately that peace returns, as if the demon was caught seeing us deserve while he wanted to disturb us.
Yes, my little Mother, despite appearances, I can say, it seems to me, by what I feel deep down
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of my heart, depth that has always existed in me: that in truth "it is joyfully that I fought the battles of the Lord" (1 Macc.) and I hear him say to me: "Do not be afraid, for you won't be confused, don't be ashamed because you won't have to blush, because your Spouse is your Creator, he remembers you. For a moment I abandoned you, says your God, but with everlasting love I had compassion on you. Unhappy woman, beaten by the storm, without consolation, behold, I will set your stones in antimony and I will found you on sapphires. (Is. 54)
Yes, I feel that for me too "the Lord is preparing a magnificent feast in the sight of my enemies, that he will perfume my head with exquisite oil, that he will fill my cup with an excellent liquor... which certainly his goodness and his mercy will accompany me all the days of my life and that I will dwell eternally in the house of the Lord!... (Ps. XXII)
Sr. Geneviève de la Sainte Face
and St Therese
here
February 24 1931
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On the day of my Golden Wedding of Profession, February 24, 1946, when the Nuncio entered the Monastery, accompanied by the Clergy, I was involved when he said to me: "Walk in front of us, like a little Joan of Arc ! And I took the lead of the procession with my flowery staff, at the top of which shone the Holy Face...
