Friday, December 24, 2010


Writing a book about a saint has been, to put it mildly, humbling. Really the only way I find I am just like St. Thérèse of Lisieux, or St. Thérèse as a prepubescent child, is her habit of melodramatically over-emoting. She cried, and then she cried because she cried. She was, or could be, a general pain in the ass to all around her.

At the age of 13--on Christmas eve in fact--she underwent her well-known “second conversion” around this very issue.

The French custom at the time was for the children of the house to leave their shoes by the fireplace the night before Christmas for the parents to fill with candy. As the youngest of the five Martin daughters (several of whom had already left for the cloister), Thérèse was the last to keep up the ritual. Returning from the vigil Mass that night in 1886, her [single] father [the mother had died when Therese was 4 ½], tired and uncharacteristically cranky, passed the pair of filled shoes and remarked: “Well, fortunately this is the last year.” Thérèse overheard and ran upstairs, ostensibly to take off her hat.

Her impulse was to burst into tears and make a scene, as she ordinarily would have. Instead, she paused halfway up the stairs, willed herself to smile, turned around, marched back to the parlor, embraced her father and opened her gifts with joy, good cheer, and thanks.

The episode marked a turning point: the entry into the third, and what would be by far the most fruitful, portion of her spiritual life. In her autobiography, The Story of a Soul, she wrote:

On that night of light the third period of my life began, the most beautiful of them all, the most filled with graces from heaven…In an instant, the work that I hadn’t been able to do in ten years—Jesus did it, being content with the good will that I had no shortage of. Like his apostles, I could say, 'Lord, I fished all night without catching anything' [cf. Lk. 5: 5-10]. Then, more merciful toward me than He was toward his disciples, Jesus Himself took the net, threw it out, and brought it back in, full of fish…He made me into a fisher of souls [Mk. 1: 17]. I felt a great desire to work for the conversion of sinners, a desire that I never felt so strongly...In a word, I felt charity enter my heart, the need to forget myself in order to please others, and ever afterward I was happy!...” [SS, p. 104]

Something to shoot the next few decades...

'And how did little Tim behave?' asked Mrs. Cratchit when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.
'As good as gold,' said Bob, ' and better. Somehow, he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day who made lame beggars walk and blind men see.'
--Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
I am grateful for you all. Wishing you hope, joy, converted hearts, and the peace that passeth all understanding on this most beautiful night of lights....


  1. Wishing you the best Heather. Merry Christmas.

  2. Thank you, Barbara, and all the very best of Christmases to you as well...

  3. Thank you, Heather. Merry Christmas!

  4. Robert!! God bless...good tidings...peace and joy...

  5. Merry Christmas Heather.
    Peace and Blessings to you.


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