One winter evening…
A radiant flash – January 27, 2021
In her autobiographical manuscripts, Thérèse often evokes the cold and austerities of the long, dark winters. While we too are in the heart of winter, here is a passage crossed by a resplendent flash of consolation and hope, to illuminate our own path.
Thérèse would then help a disabled nun to get to the refectory every evening…
"It pained me greatly to offer to do this small favor, for I knew it wasn't easy to please poor Sister St. Peter, who suffered so much that she disliked having a different driver. However, I didn't want to miss such a wonderful opportunity to practice charity, remembering that Jesus had said: "Whatever you do for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you do for me." So, I humbly offered to drive her…
Every evening when I saw Sister St. Pierre shake her hourglass, I knew it meant: let's go! It's incredible how much it pained me to get going, especially at the beginning; yet I did it immediately, and then a whole ceremony began. The bench had to be moved and carried in a certain way, above all not to rush, and then the walk took place. It involved following the poor infirm woman, supporting her by her belt. I did this as gently as I could; but if, by misfortune, she took a misstep, she immediately felt that I wasn't holding her properly and that she was going to fall. "Oh! My God! You're going too fast, I'm going to break!" If I tried to go even more gently, I'd hear, "But follow me! I can't feel your hand anymore, you've let go of me, I'm going to fall; ah! I told you that you were too young to lead me."
Finally we arrived without incident at the refectory; there other difficulties arose, it was a matter of getting Sister Pierre to sit down and acting skillfully so as not to hurt her, then it was necessary to roll up one's sleeves (again in a certain way), then I was free to leave.
With her poor, crippled hands, she arranged her bread in her cup as best she could. I soon noticed this and, every evening, I only left her after doing her this small favor. As she hadn't asked me to, she was very touched by my thoughtfulness, and it was by this means, which I hadn't sought on purpose, that I completely won her favor, and especially (I learned this later) because, after cutting her bread, I gave her my most beautiful smile before leaving.
I sometimes recall certain details that are like a spring breeze to my soul. Here is one that comes to mind: one winter evening, I was performing my usual routine; it was cold, it was dark…
Suddenly I heard in the distance the harmonious sound of a musical instrument, then I pictured a well-lit drawing room, all glittering with gilding, elegantly dressed young girls exchanging compliments and worldly pleasantries; then my gaze fell upon the sick woman I was supporting; instead of a melody I heard from time to time her plaintive moans, instead of gilding I saw the bricks of our austere cloister, barely lit by a faint glow.
I cannot express what passed within my soul; what I know is that the Lord illuminated it with rays of truth that so far surpassed the dark splendor of earthly festivities that I could scarcely believe my happiness… Ah! I would not have given the ten minutes I spent fulfilling my humble duty of charity to enjoy worldly pleasures for a thousand years… If even in suffering, in the midst of struggle, one can experience for a moment a happiness that surpasses all earthly joys, thinking that the good Lord has taken us from this world, what will it be like in Heaven when we see, in eternal joy and peace, the incomparable grace that the Lord has bestowed upon us by choosing us to dwell in His house, the true gateway to Heaven?
Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Manuscript C, 29v
