Mercies of the Lord
Perhaps you are wondering, dear Mother, with some astonishment where I am going from here, for up till now I’ve said nothing that resembles the story of my life. But you asked me to write under no constraint whatever would come into my mind. It is not, then, my life, properly so-called, that I am going to write; it is my thoughts on the graces God deigned to grant me. I find myself at a period in my life when I can cast a glance on the past; my soul has matured in the crucible of exterior and interior trials. And now, like a flower strengthened by the storm, I can raise my head and see the words of Psalm 22 realized in me: “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me…”3 To me the Lord has always been “merciful and good, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” (Ps. 102, v. 8).
3. Psalm 22:1-4.
It is with great happiness, then, that I come to sing the mercies of the Lord with you, dear Mother. It is for you alone I am writing the story of the little flower gathered by Jesus. I will talk freely and without any worries as to the numerous digressions I will make. A mother’s heart understands her child even when it can but stammer, and so I’m sure of being understood by you, who formed my heart, offering it up to Jesus!
It seems to me that if a little flower could speak, it would tell simply what God has done for it without trying to hide its blessings. It would not say, under the pretext of a false humility, it is not beautiful or without perfume, that the sun has taken away its splendor and the storm has broken its stem when it knows that all this is untrue. The flower about to tell her story rejoices at having to publish the totally gratuitous gifts of Jesus. She knows that nothing in herself was capable of attracting the divine glances, and His mercy alone brought about everything that is good in her.
It was He who had her born in a holy soil, impregnated with a virginal perfume. It was He, too, who has her preceded by eight Lilies of dazzling whiteness. In His love He wished to preserve His little flower from the world’s poisoned breath. Hardly had her petals begun to unfold when this divine Savior transplanted her to Mount Carmel where already two Lilies, who had taken care of her in the springtime of her life, spread their sweet perfume. Seven years have passed by since the little flower took root in the garden of the Spouse of Virgins, and now three Lilies bloom in her presence. A little farther off another lily expands under the eyes of Jesus. The two stems who brought these flowers into existence are now reunited for all eternity in the heavenly Fatherland. There they have found once again the four Lilies the earth had not seen develop. Oh! may Jesus deign not to allow a long time to pass on these strange shores for the flowers left in exile. May the Lilyplant be soon complete in Heaven!4
4. In this figurative language Thérèse describes her family. When she was writing, there were “three Lilies” with her in Carmel, viz., Marie, Pauline, and Céline; another, Léonie, was in the Visitation convent at Caen. Thérèse describes her two parents as “the two stems reunited for all eternity.”
I have just summed up in a few words, dear Mother, what god did for me. Now I will go into detail about the years of my childhood. I realize that here where others would see nothing but a tedious recital, your motherly heart will find some facts that are charming. Besides, the memories I’m about to evoke are also yours since my childhood unfolded near you, and I have the good fortune to belong to Parents without equal who surrounded us both with the same cares and the same tenderness. Oh! may they bless the littlest of their children and help her to sing the divine mercies!