I have much to be thankful for.  I will tell you quite openly what the Lord has done for me.  He has shown unto me the same mercy as unto King Solomon.  All my desires have been satisfied; not only my desires of perfection, but even those of which I understood the vanity, in theory, if not in practice.  I had always looked on Sister Agnes of Jesus as my model, and I wished to be like her in everything.  She used to paint exquisite miniatures and write beautiful poems, and this inspired me with a desire to learn to paint,[4] and express my thoughts in verse, that I might do some good to those around me.  But I would not ask for these natural gifts, and my desire remained hidden in my heart.

Jesus, too, had hidden Himself in this poor little heart, and He was pleased to show me once more the vanity of all that passes.  To the great astonishment of the Community, I succeeded in painting several pictures and in writing poems which have been a help to certain souls.  And just as Solomon, “turning to all the works which his hand had wrought, and to the labours wherein he had laboured in vain, saw in all things vanity and vexation of mind,"[5] so experience showed me that the sole happiness of earth consists in lying hidden, and remaining in total ignorance of created things.  I understood that without love even the most brilliant deeds count for nothing.  These gifts, which Our Lord lavished upon me, far from doing me any harm, drew me towards Him; I saw that He alone is unchangeable, He alone can fill the vast abyss of my desires.

Talking of my desires, I must tell you about others of quite a different kind, which the Divine Master has also been pleased to grant:  childish desires, like the wish for snow on my clothing day.  You know, dear Mother, how fond I am of flowers.  When I made myself a prisoner at the age of fifteen, I gave up for ever the delights of rambling through meadows bright with the treasures of spring.  Well, I never possessed so many flowers as I have had since entering the Carmel.  In the world young men present their betrothed with beautiful bouquets, and Jesus did not forget me.  For His Altar I received, in abundance, all the flowers I loved best:  cornflowers, poppies, marguerites—­one little friend only was missing, the purple vetch.  I longed to see it again, and at last it came to gladden me and show that, in the least as in the greatest, God gives a hundred-fold, even in this life, to those who have left all for His Love.

But one desire, the dearest of all, and for many reasons the most difficult, remained unfulfilled.  It was to see Celine enter the Carmel of Lisieux.  However, I had made a sacrifice of my longing, and committed to God alone the future of my loved sister.  I was willing she should be sent to far distant lands if it must be so; but I wanted above all things to see her like myself, the Spouse of Jesus.  I suffered deeply, aware that she was exposed in the world to dangers I had never even known.  My affection for her was maternal rather than sisterly, and I was filled with solicitude for the welfare of her soul.