How can a heart given up to human affections be closely united to God?  It seems to me that it is impossible.  I have seen so many souls, allured by this false light, fly right into it like poor moths, and burn their wings, and then return, wounded, to Our Lord, the Divine fire which burns and does not consume.  I know well Our Lord saw that I was too weak to be exposed to temptation, for, without doubt, had the deceitful light of created love dazzled my eyes, I should have been entirely consumed.  Where strong souls find joy and practise detachment faithfully, I only found bitterness.  No merit, then, is due to me for not having given up to these frail ties, since I was only preserved from them by the Mercy of God.  I fully realised that without Him I should have fallen as low as St. Mary Magdalen, and the Divine Master’s words re-echoed sweetly in my soul.  Yes, I know that “To whom less is forgiven he loveth less,"[9] but I know too that Our Lord has forgiven me more than St. Mary Magdalen.  Here is an example which will, at any rate, show you some of my thoughts.

Let us suppose that the son of a very clever doctor, stumbling over a stone on the road, falls and breaks his leg.  His father hastens to him, lifts him lovingly, and binds up the fractured limb, putting forth all his skill.  The son, when cured, displays the utmost gratitude, and he has excellent reason for doing so.  But let us take another supposition.

The father, aware that a dangerous stone lies in his son’s path, is beforehand with the danger and removes it, unseen by anyone.  The son, thus tenderly cared for, not knowing of the mishap from which his father’s hand has saved him, naturally will not show him any gratitude, and will love him less than if he had cured him of a grievous wound.  But suppose he heard the whole truth, would he not in that case love him still more?  Well now, I am this child, the object of the foreseeing love of a Father “Who did not send His son to call the just, but sinners."[10] He wishes me to love Him, because He has forgiven me, not much, but everything.  Without waiting for me to love Him much, as St. Mary Magdalen did, He has made me understand how He has loved me with an ineffable love and forethought, so that now my love may know no bounds.

I had often heard it said, both in retreats and elsewhere, that He is more deeply loved by repentant souls than by those who have not lost their baptismal innocence.  Ah!  If I could but give the lie to those words. . . .

But I have wandered so far from my subject that I hardly know where to begin again.  It was during the retreat before my second Communion that I was attacked by the terrible disease of scruples.  One must have passed through this martyrdom to understand it.  It would be quite impossible for me to tell you what I suffered for nearly two years.  All my thoughts and actions, even the simplest, were a source of trouble and anguish to me; I had no peace till I had told Marie everything, and this was most painful, since I imagined I was obliged to tell absolutely all my thoughts, even the most extravagant.  As soon as I had unburdened myself I felt a momentary peace, but it passed like a flash, and my martyrdom began again.  Many an occasion for patience did I provide for my dear sister.