Which of these two ways is more pleasing to Our Lord?  It seems to me that they are equally so.

All those beloved by God have followed the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, who commanded the prophets to write:  “Tell the just man that all is well."[3] Yes, all is well when one seeks only the Master’s Will, and so I, poor Little Flower, obey my Jesus when I try to please you, who represent him here on earth.

You know it has ever been my desire to become a Saint, but I have always felt, in comparing myself with the Saints, that I am as far removed from them as the grain of sand, which the passer-by tramples underfoot, is remote from the mountain whose summit is lost in the clouds.

Instead of being discouraged, I concluded that God would not inspire desires which could not be realised, and that I may aspire to sanctity in spite of my littleness.  For me to become great is impossible.  I must bear with myself and my many imperfections; but I will seek out a means of getting to Heaven by a little way—­very short and very straight, a little way that is wholly new.  We live in an age of inventions; nowadays the rich need not trouble to climb the stairs, they have lifts instead.  Well, I mean to try and find a lift by which I may be raised unto God, for I am too tiny to climb the steep stairway of perfection.  I have sought to find in Holy Scripture some suggestion as to what this lift might be which I so much desired, and I read these words uttered by the Eternal Wisdom Itself:  “Whosoever is a little one, let him come to Me."[4] Then I drew near to God, feeling sure that I had discovered what I sought; but wishing to know further what He would do to the little one, I continued my search and this is what I found:  “You shall be carried at the breasts and upon the knees; as one whom the mother caresseth, so will I comfort you."[5]

Never have I been consoled by words more tender and sweet.  Thine Arms, then, O Jesus, are the lift which must raise me up even unto Heaven.  To get there I need not grow; on the contrary, I must remain little, I must become still less.  O my God, thou hast gone beyond my expectation, and I . . .  “I will sing Thy mercies!  Thou hast taught me, O Lord, from my youth and till now I have declared Thy wonderful works, and thus unto old age and grey hairs."[6]

What will this old age be for me?  It seems to me that it could as well be now as later:  two thousand years are no more in the Eyes of the Lord than twenty years . . . than a single day!  But do not think, dear Mother, that your child is anxious to leave you, and deems it a greater grace to die in the morning rather than in the evening of life; to please Jesus is what [s]he really values and desires above all things.  Now that He seems to come near and draw her to His Heavenly Home, she is glad; she has understood that God has need of no one to do good upon earth, still less of her than of others.  Meantime I know your will, dear Mother.  You wish