Thoughts of Saint Thérèse of the Child JesusThérèse, de Lisieux, Saint
Religion
Thoughts of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus
Thérèse, de Lisieux, Saint
Meditations
I WAS ten years old the day that my Father told Céline he was
going to let her have lessons in painting; I was by, and envied
her. Then Papa said to me: "And you, my little queen, would it
give you pleasure too to learn drawing?" I was just going to
respond with a very gladsome _yes_, when Marie made the remark
that I had not the same taste for it as Céline. At once she
gained the day; and I, thinking that here was a good opportunity
of offering a grand sacrifice to Jesus, said not a word. So
eager was my desire to learn drawing that now I still wonder how
I had the fortitude to remain silent.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. VIII
IN the world, on awakening in the morning I used to think over
what would probably occur either pleasing or vexatious during
the day; and if I foresaw only trying events I arose dispirited.
Now it is quite the other way: I think of the difficulties and
the sufferings that await me, and I rise the more joyous and
full of courage the more I foresee opportunities of proving my
love for Jesus, and _earning the living of my children_--seeing
that I am _the mother_ of souls. Then I kiss my crucifix and lay
it tenderly on the pillow while I dress, and I say to Him: "My
Jesus, Thou hast worked enough and wept enough during the
three-and-thirty years of Thy life on this poor earth. Take now
Thy rest . . . My turn it is to suffer and to fight."
COUNSELS AND REMINISCENCES
THE attraction to penance was given me, but I was permitted
nothing to satisfy it. The only mortifications I was allowed
consisted in mortifying self-love, which did me more good than
corporal penance.
HIST. D'UNE AME, CH. VII
AT prayer I was for a long time near a Sister who used to handle
incessantly either her Rosary-beads or some other thing; perhaps
none heard it but myself, for my hearing is extremely acute, but
I cannot say how it tormented me! I should have liked to turn my
head and look at the culprit so as to make her stop that noise:
however in my heart I knew it was better to bear it patiently,
for the love of God in the first place, and also to avoid giving
pain.
I kept quiet therefore, but was sometimes worked up to
fever-heat and obliged to make simply a prayer of endurance.
Finally I sought out the means of suffering with peace and joy,
at least in my innermost soul; I tried to like the teasing
little noise. Instead of endeavouring not to hear it--a thing
impossible--I listened with fixed attention as if it had been
a delightful concert; and my prayer, _which was not the prayer
of quiet_, passed in offering this concert to Jesus.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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