Our Lord also taught me:  “Give to everyone that asketh thee; and of him that taketh away thy goods, ask them not again."[26] To give to everyone who asks is not so pleasant as to give of one’s own accord.  If we are asked pleasantly, it is easy to give; but if we are asked discourteously, then, unless we are perfect in charity, there is an inward rebellion, and we find no end of excuses for refusing.  Perhaps, after first pointing out the rudeness of the request, we make such a favour of consenting thereto, that the slight service takes far less time to perform than was lost in arguing the point.  And if it is difficult to give to whosoever asks, it is far more difficult to let what belongs to us be taken without asking it again.  Dear Mother, I say this is hard, but I should rather say that it seems hard, for “The yoke of the Lord is sweet and His burden light."[27] And when we submit to that yoke, we at once feel its sweetness.

I have said Jesus does not wish me to ask again for what is my own.  This ought to seem quite easy, for, in reality, nothing is mine.  I ought, then, to be glad when an occasion arises which brings home to me the poverty to which I am vowed.  I used to think myself completely detached, but since Our Lord’s words have become clear, I see that I am indeed very imperfect.

For instance:  when starting to paint, if I find the brushes in disorder, and a ruler or penknife gone, I feel inclined to lose patience, and have to keep a firm hold over myself not to betray my feelings.  Of course I may ask for these needful things, and if I do so humbly I am not disobeying Our Lord’s command.  I am then like the poor who hold out their hands for the necessaries of life, and, if refused, are not surprised, since no one owes them anything.  Deep peace inundates the soul when it soars above mere natural sentiments.  There is no joy equal to that which is shared by the truly poor in spirit.  If they ask with detachment for something necessary, and not only is it refused, but an attempt is made to take away what they already possess, they are following the Master’s advice:  “If any man will take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also."[28] To give up one’s cloak is, it seems to me, to renounce every right, and to regard oneself as the servant, the slave, of all.  Without a cloak it is easier to walk or run, and so the Master adds:  “And whosoever shall force thee to go one mile, go with him other two."[29]

It is therefore not enough for me to give to whoever asks—­I ought to anticipate the wish, and show myself glad to be of service; but if anything of mine be taken away, I should show myself glad to be rid of it.  I cannot always carry out to the letter the words of the Gospel, for there are occasions when I am compelled to refuse some request.  Yet when charity is deeply rooted in the soul it lets itself be outwardly seen, and there is a way of refusing so graciously what one is unable to give, that the