Papa’s tenderness

(After the walk during which Papa bought me a little present worth a few sous) we returned to the house; then I did my homework and the rest of the time I stayed in the garden with Papa, jumping around, etc., for I didn’t know how to play with dolls. It was a great joy for me to prepare mixtures with little seeds and pieces of bark I found on the ground, and I’d bring them to Papa in a pretty little cup. Poor Papa stopped all his work and with a smile he pretended to drink. Before giving me back the cup he’d ask me (on the sly) if he should throw the contents out. Sometimes I would say “Yes,” but more frequently I carried away my precious mixture, wanting to use it several times.

I loved cultivating my little flowers in the garden Papa gave me. I amused myself, too, by setting up little altars in a niche in the middle of the wall. When I completed my work, I ran to Papa and dragged him over, telling him to close his eyes and not open them till I told him. He did all I asked him to do and allowed himself to be led in front of my little garden, then I’d cry out: “Papa, open your eyes!” He would open them and then go into an ecstasy to please me, admiring what I believed was really a masterpiece! I would never come to an end if I really wanted to portray a thousand little actions like this which crowd into my memory. How could I possibly express the tenderness which “Papa” showered upon his little queen? There are things the heart feels but which the tongue and even the mind cannot express.

They were beautiful days for me, those days when my “dear King” took me fishing with him. I was very fond of the countryside, flowers, birds, etc. Sometimes I would try to fish with my little line, but I preferred to go alone and sit down on the grass bedecked with flowers, and then my thoughts became very profound indeed! Without knowing what it was to meditate, my soul was absorbed in real prayer. I listened to distant sounds, the murmuring of the wind, etc. At times, the indistinct notes of some military music reached me where I was, filling my heart with a sweet melancholy. Earth then seemed to be a place of exile and I could dream only of heaven.

The afternoon sped by quickly and soon we had to return to Les Buissonnets. Before leaving, I would take the lunch I had brought in my little basket. The beautiful bread and jam you had prepared had changed its appearance: instead of the lively colors it had earlier, I now saw only a light rosy tint and the bread had become old and crumbled. Earth again seemed a sad place and I understood that in heaven alone joy will be without any clouds.

Speaking of clouds, I remember one day when the beautiful blue sky became suddenly overcast and soon the thunder began to roll and the lightning to flash through the dark clouds. I saw it strike a short distance away, and, far from being frightened, I was thrilled with delight because God seemed to be so close! Papa, however, was not as delighted as his little Queen. It wasn’t because the storm frightened him but because the grass and the tall daisies (taller that I) were beginning to sparkle with precious stones. We had to cross several fields before coming to a road, and Papa, fearing the diamonds would soak his little girl, picked her up and carried her on his back in spite of his bundle of lines.

During the walks I took with Papa, he loved to have me bring alms to the poor we met on the way. On one occasion we met a poor man who was dragging himself along painfully on crutches. I went up to give him a coin. He looked at me with a sad smile and refused my offering since he felt he wasn’t poor enough to accept alms. I cannot express the feeling that went through my heart. I wanted to console this man and instead I had given him pain or so I thought. The poor invalid undoubtedly guessed at what was passing through my mind, for I saw him turn around and smile at me. Papa had just bought me a little cake, and I had an intense desire to give it to him, but I didn’t dare. However, I really wanted to give him something he couldn't refuse, so great was the sympathy I felt toward him. I remembered having heard that on our First Communion Day we can obtain whatever we ask for, and this thought greatly consoled me. Although I was only six years old at this time, I said: “I’ll pray for this poor man the day of my First Communion.” I kept my promise five years later, and I hope God answered the prayer He inspired me to direct to Him in favor of one of His suffering members.