Feasts and Sundays

The feasts! what memories this word brings back to me. How I loved the feasts! You knew how to explain all the mysteries hidden under each, and you did it so well that they were truly heavenly days for me. I loved above all the processions in honor of the Blessed Sacrament. What a joy it was for me to throw flowers beneath the feet of God! Before allowing them to fall to the ground, I threw them as high as I could and I was never so happy as when I saw my roses touch the sacred monstrance.

If the big feasts were rare, each week brought one that was very dear to my heart, namely Sunday! What a day Sunday was for me! It was God’s feast day, and feast of rest. First, I stayed in bed longer than on the other days; then Pauline spoiled her little girl by bringing her some chocolate to drink while in bed and then she dressed her up like a little Queen. Marie came to curl her hair and Thérèse was not always nice when Marie pulled her hair. Afterward she was very happy to take the hand of her King who on that day kissed her more tenderly than usual. The whole family then went off to Mass.

All along the way to church and even in the church Papa’s little Queen held his hand. Her place was by his side, and when we had to go down into the body of the church to listen to the sermon, two chairs had to be found side by side. This wasn’t too difficult, for everyone seemed to think it so wonderful to see such a handsome old man with such a little daughter that they were out of their way to give them their places. Uncle, sitting in the warden’s pews, was always happy to see us come. He used to call me his little ray of sunshine.

I wasn’t too disturbed at being looked at by people. I listened attentively to the sermons which I understood very poorly. The first I did understand and which touched me deeply was a sermon on the Passion preached by Father Ducellier and since then I’ve understood all the others. When the preacher spoke about St. Teresa, Papa leaned over and whispered: “Listen carefully, little Queen, he’s talking about your Patroness.” I did listen carefully, but I looked more frequently at Papa than at the preacher, for his handsome face said so much to me! His eyes, at times, were filled with tears which he tried in vain to stop; he seemed no longer held by earth, so much did his soul love to lose itself in the eternal truths. His earthly course, however, was far from completed; long years had to pass by before heaven opened to his enraptured eyes and he Lord would wipe the tears from the eyes of His good and faithful servant!

I return once more to my Sundays. This joyous day, passing all too quickly, had its tinge of melancholy. I remember how my happiness was unmixed until Compline.³⁹ During this prayer, I would begin thinking that the day of rest was coming to an end, that the morrow would bring with it the necessity of beginning life over again, we would have to go back to work, to learning lessons, etc., and my heart felt the exile of this earth. I longed for the everlasting repose of heaven, that never-ending Sunday of the Fatherland!

The walks we took on Sundays before returning to Les Buissonnets left a feeling of sadness in my soul, for then the family was not complete. Papa, to please Uncle, used to permit Marie or Pauline to spend Sunday evenings at his home; I was happy when I was there with one of them. I preferred this to being invited all alone because then they paid less attention to me. I listened with great pleasure to all Uncle had to say, but I didn’t like it when he asked me questions. I was very much frightened when he placed me on his knee and sang Blue Beard in a formidable tone of voice. I was happy to see Papa coming to fetch us. When we were on the way home, I would gaze upon the stars that were twinkling ever so peacefully in the skies and the sight carried me away. There was especially one cluster of golden pears that attracted my attention and gave me great joy because they were in the form of a – T – . I pointed them out to Papa and told him my name was written in heaven. Then desiring to look no longer upon this dull earth, I asked him to guide my steps; and not looking where I placed my feet I threw back my head, giving myself over completely to the contemplation of the star-studded firmament!

What shall I say of the winter evening at home, especially the Sunday evenings? Ah! how I loved, after the game of checkers was over, to sit with Céline on Papa’s Knees.⁴⁰ He used to sing, in his beautiful voice, airs that filled the soul with profound thoughts, or else, rocking us gently, he recited poems that taught the eternal truths. Then we all went upstairs to say our night prayers together and the little Queen was alone near her King, having only to look at him to see how the saints pray. When prayer was ended we came according to age to bid Papa good night and receive his kiss; the Queen naturally came last and the King took her by the two elbows to kiss her and she would cry out in a high-pitched tone; “Good night, Papa, good night and sleep well!” Ever evening was a repetition of the same thing.

Then my little Mama took me in her arms and brought me to Céline’s bed. I would say: “Was I very good today, Pauline? Will the little angels fly around me?”  The answer was invariably “Yes,” otherwise I would have cried the whole night. After she and Marie had kissed me, Pauline went downstairs and poor little Thérèse was left all alone in the dark; in vain did she picture the little angels flying around her; fright soon took over, the darkness filled her with fear, for she could no longer see the stars twinkling away serenely.