* * * * * *

At a moment of temptation and struggle I received this note:  “’The just man shall correct me in mercy and shall reprove me; but let not the oil of the sinner perfume my head.’[10] It is only by the just that I can be either reproved or corrected, because all my Sisters are pleasing to God.  It is less bitter to be rebuked by a sinner than by a just man; but through compassion for sinners, to obtain their conversion, I beseech Thee, O my God, to permit that I may be well rebuked by those just souls who surround me.  I ask also that the oil of praise, so sweet to our nature, may not perfume my head, that is to say, my mind, by making me believe that I possess virtues when I have merely performed a few good actions.

“Jesus!  ’Thy Name is as oil poured out,’[11] and it is into this divine perfume that I desire wholly to plunge myself, far from the gaze of mankind.”

* * * * * *

“It is not playing the game to argue with a Sister that she is in the wrong, even when it is true, because we are not answerable for her conduct.  We must not be Justices of the peace, but Angels of peace only.”

* * * * * *

“You give yourselves up too much to what you are doing,” she used to say to us; “you worry about the future as though it were in your hands.  Are you much concerned at this moment as to what is happening in other Carmelite convents, and whether the nuns there are busy or otherwise?  Does their work prevent you praying or meditating?  Well, just in the same way, you ought to detach yourselves from your own personal labours, conscientiously spending on them the time prescribed, but with perfect freedom of heart.  We read that the Israelites, while building the walls of Jerusalem, worked with one hand and held a sword in the other.[12] This is an image of what we should do:  avoid being wholly absorbed in our work.”

* * * * * *

“One Sunday,” Therese relates, “I was going toward the chestnut avenue, full of rejoicing, for it was spring-time, and I wanted to enjoy nature’s beauties.  What a bitter disappointment!  My dear chestnuts had been pruned, and the branches, already covered with buds, now lay on the ground.  On seeing this havoc, and thinking that three years must elapse before it could be repaired, my heart felt very sore.  But the grief did not last long.  ’If I were in another convent,’ I reflected, ’what would it matter to me if the chestnut-trees of the Carmel at Lisieux were entirely cut down?’ I will not worry about things that pass.  God shall be my all.  I will take my walks in the wooded groves of His Love, whereon none dare lay hands.”

* * * * * *

A novice asked her Sisters to help her shake some blankets.  As they were somewhat liable to tear because of their worn condition, she insisted, rather sharply, on their being handled with care.  “What would you do,” said Therese to the impatient one, “if it were not your duty to mend these blankets?  There would be no thought of self in the matter, and if you did call attention to the fact that they are easily torn, it would be done in quite an impersonal way.  In all your actions, you should avoid the least trace of self-seeking.”