Chapter XIII: Letter to Her Sister Céline

O Mary, if I were Queen of Heaven and thou wert Thérèse, I fain would be Thérèse to see thee Queen of Heaven!

8 September, 1897.

Last words written by Sister Thérèse
of the Child Jesus.

VARIOUS SUBJECTS

Léonie, no doubt finding that she was growing too old to play with dolls, came one day to Céline and me, with a basket full of dolls’ clothes, odds and ends of pretty materials, trimmings, etc., on which she had laid her doll, saying to us: “There, little sisters--choose!” Céline looked, and took a knot of edging. After reflecting a moment I, in turn, put out my hand saying: “I choose all!” and I carried off basket and doll without further ceremony.

This trait of my childhood is, as it were, a summary of my entire life. Later on when the meaning of perfection began to unfold itself to me, I understood that to become a saint it is necessary to suffer much, ever to seek after that which is most perfect, and to forget self. I understood that in sanctity the degrees are many, that each soul is free to respond to the advances of our Lord, to do little or much for His sake, in a word, to _choose_ between the sacrifices that He asks. Then, as in the days of my childhood, I exclaimed: “My God, I choose all! I do not wish to be a saint by halves; the thought of suffering for Thee does not frighten me, one thing only do I fear--my own will; take Thou my will, for _I choose all_ that Thou willest.”

HIST. D’UNE AME, CH. I

My Father took me for a pleasant tour during which I began to know a little of the world. Around me all was gaiety and delight; I was made welcome, petted, admired, in short, for fifteen days the pathway of my life was strewn with naught but flowers. Holy Wisdom well says that _the bewitching of trifles overturneth the innocent mind_.[98] At the age of ten the heart easily allows itself to be dazzled, and I own that this sort of life had some charms for me. Alas! how well the world contrives to reconcile the delights of earth with the service of God. How seldom does it think of death.

And death, nevertheless, has come to a great many of the people whom I then knew, young, rich and prosperous. I like to go back in thought to their beautiful dwellings, to ask myself where are they, and what benefit do they now draw from the castles and parks where I saw them enjoying all the comforts of life.... And I reflect that “_all is vanity_”[99] “_but to love God and to serve Him alone._”[100]

HIST. D’UNE AME, CH. IV

What compassion I have for souls who are going astray. It is so easy to lose one’s way in the flowery paths of the world. Undoubtedly for a soul who has risen a little above the things of earth, the sweetness offered is intermingled with bitterness, and the immense void of its desires cannot be filled by the praises of a moment.

HIST. D’UNE AME, CH. IV

We have but life’s brief day to save souls and thus to give to Jesus proof of our love. The morrow of this day will be Eternity and then He will render to you a hundredfold for the joys which you have sacrificed for Him. He knows the extent of your sacrifice, He knows that the grief of those dear to you increases your own still more; but to save our souls He has Himself suffered this martyrdom. He too, left His Mother, He saw the Immaculate Virgin stand at the foot of the Cross, her heart transpierced by the sword of sorrow.

Ah! if the Divine Master would but grant to those whom you are going to leave for His sake, a foresight of the glory He reserves for you, the multitude of souls who in heaven will form your train, they would be already recompensed for their great sacrifice in parting with you.