O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!
O Mary, who appeared to Bernadette at Lourdes, pray for us who have recourse to thee!
O Mary, to whom Zelie went for a cure, pray for us who have recourse to thee!
O Mary, who at Lourdes converted Felix LeSeur, pray for us!

​Yesterday was the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes, but I've decided with the approval of St. Bernadette (who hasn't objected, so I'm taking that as consent) to extend Our Lady's feast for at least an octave this year . . . After all, she appeared to Bernadette 18 times, not just once . . . and you, like me, might still have some dear sick ones who haven't gotten their miracle yet . . . so let's keep going! Let's keep turning to Our Lady who, although she may be busy bringing God's healing and peace to someone else's sick dear ones just now, will surely - like any good mom - eventually bend down if we just keep tugging on her sleeve and calling her name. 

I found the most wonderful little plug for Our Lady of Lourdes yesterday. You may know the story of Elisabeth Leseur. She was a lovely young French Catholic woman who married a not so lovely and not so very Catholic French man, Felix, who kept his atheism somewhat hidden from her until they were wed. Then he worked with every power of his soul to destroy the faith of his dearly beloved and believing wife. To be fair, Felix thought he was doing her a favor, poor dope.

Happily, she ended up becoming more Catholic, and enlisted God to convert him. Good plan, Elisabeth! But what I found yesterday - which contains the sequel to Elisabeth's fervent prayers and self offering - is a pithy account by none other than Venerable Fulton Sheen who heard it from none other than Felix himself, of how Our Lady of Lourdes got involved. Here it is:

Our Lady of Lourdes and the Conversion of Dr. Felix Leseur
​by Bishop Fulton J. Sheen

Just at the turn of the (20th) century, there was a woman married in Paris, just a good, ordinary Catholic girl, to an atheist doctor, Dr. Felix Leseur. He attempted to break down the faith of his wife and she reacted and began studying her faith.

In l905, she was taken ill and tossed on a bed of constant pain until August 1914. When she was dying, she said to her husband,

“Felix, when I am dead, you will become a Catholic and a Dominican priest.”

“Elizabeth, you know my sentiments. I’ve sworn hatred of God, I shall live in that hatred and I shall die in it.”

She repeated her words and passed away. She died in her husband’s arms at the early age of 47.

Rummaging through her papers, Felix found her will. She wrote: “In l905, I asked almighty God to send me sufficient sufferings to purchase your soul. On the day that I die, the price will have been paid. Greater love than this no woman has than she who lays down her life for her husband.”

Dr. Leseur, the atheist, dismissed her will as the fancies of a pious woman.
He decided to write a book against Lourdes.

He went down to Lourdes to write against Our Lady. However, as he looked up into the face of the statue of Mary, he received the great gift of faith. So total, so complete was it, that he never had to go through the process of juxtaposition and say, “How will I answer this or that difficulty?” He saw it all. At once.

The then reigning pontiff was Benedict XV.

Then came World War I. Hearing of the conversion of Dr. Leseur, Pope Benedict XV sent for him. Dr. Leseur went in the company of Fr. Jon Vinnea, orator of Notre Dame. Dr. Leseur recounted his conversion and said that he wanted to become a Dominican priest. Holy Father said, “I forbid you. You must remain in the world and repair the harm which you have done.”

The Holy Father then talked to Fr. Vinnea and then again to Dr. Leseur and said: “I revoke my decision. Whatever Fr. Vinnea tells you to do, you may do.”

In the year 1924, during Lent, I, Fulton J. Sheen, made my retreat in the Dominican monastery in Belgium. Four times each day, and 45 minutes in length, I made my retreat under the spiritual guidance of Father Felix Leseur of the Order of Preachers, Catholic Dominican priest, who told me this story.

*   *   *

How's that for an answer to prayer?
O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!
Dear Blessed Mother, we have so much we need! We have loved ones away from the Faith and sacraments. We have dear ones who are sick with various illnesses, physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. And we ourselves are badly in need of your sweet maternal love, wounded as we are. Do take our darling Jesus and offer Him to the Father for all our needs. Bless with your presence, your kindness, your affection and your own prayers - which mean miracles because you are the dearest daughter, spouse, and mother of God - bless the Church, the world, and our homes and hearts. We ask this in Jesus' adorable name!

Draw me, dear Mother, and we will run!!!

"O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!"

Today begins our novena to Our Lady of Lourdes here at Miss Marcel's Musings. If you start today, you'll finish with us on the feast, February 11th. Thank you, guardian angel, for reminding me!

What do we have to gain?
Health and happiness.
Yes, I know, Our Lady said to St. Bernadette, "I do not promise you happiness in this life, but in the next."
Happily, we are not St. Bernadette, and unless Our Mom in Heaven has said the same to you (and if so, please eat a nourishing meal and take a good long nap, just in case it was your imagination), I vote for counting on happiness in THIS "life" and in the next!

For a long time I thought it was a foregone conclusion that this exile we call life would be pretty painful, even though I had every beautiful gift at my fingertips - the Faith, family, friends, and enough to read and eat.

Then I discovered - in books, since that is the way He likes to enlighten me - that living with guilt, fear, and sorrow was not His plan, even if it is unavoidably a valley of tears we walk through . . . 

The Scriptures, our Heavenly Father's love letters to us, are full of His kind and compassionate promises. He wants happiness for us, the more the better, the sooner the better. St. Therese's favorite Psalm 23 illustrates that wonderfully, and recently I enjoyed a typed up translation a friend had sent (after her son had typed) that said, "He maketh me lie down in green pastures."

I got a huge kick out of that because I was at my holy hour - a green pasture indeed, but at the drop of a hat I will let a friend cover for me, and when I finally found myself before my Best Friend again, I had to admit, yes, He does have to MAKE me lie down or I'll fritter away my life in errands!

Anyhow, the whole Little Way is about these promises and the trust and abandonment with which we can relax in the Father's arms while He carries us everywhere. How literal is this? Much more than we think, but even in its figurative sense, I have one son who has seen the truth born out over and over again - when he allows God and Mother Mary to take over, it gets done (whatever "it" is), whereas trying to force the doing of it in pain is a recipe for an inedible and non-nourishing stew.

My other son was recently plucked up from his amazon delivery driver job (fortunately he wasn't on the job at the moment of the plucking, so no Left Behind car accidents ensued) and dropped by the loving hand of God into Castel Gandolfo, Italy, vacation home of the saints (JPII and Benedict XVI most recently) . . .due to no efforts of his own, and thanks to St. Joseph and Padre Pio hearing my prayers.

So, where does this lead us?
Straight to the grotto of Lourdes with St. Bernadette.
On this day - well the day that ends the novena, the day of the first apparition of Our Lady of little Bernadette - in 1983 I visited Thomas Aquinas College and that visit changed my life. That Lady changed my life. 

On this day (February 11, the day we're heading toward) in 1993, my husband and I arrived for his interview at Christendom College and that visit changed our lives too. 

On this day of February 11, 1950, John C.H. Wu finished his memoir Beyond East and West, and on or around this same February 11 in 2001, I found his book on the shelf of the library at Christendom . . . which led me to Fr. Nicholas Maestrini, P.I.M.E., Italian missionary extraordinaire, and lover of little St. Therese. Wow, these were lifechanging events too!

I could go on, but let me simply say:
Let's make this a life changing feast in our Jubilee Year of Hope!
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us, and pluck us out of the ordinary round and drop us deeper into the Heart of Jesus!
St. Bernadette, pray for us!

I'm praying "O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee" for my novena prayer. Jump in anytime, and even if you forget, you're covered!

​Draw me, we will run!

But let's get to those inspired words of St. Francis for us. He's helped me tremendously with his encouragement NOT to worry and his singular understanding that even our efforts to follow Jesus more closely are often fraught with anxiety that is not only upsetting to us, but upsetting to Jesus! Or perhaps a better way to say it (besides the many ways St. Francis himself does, which we'll get to pronto) is simply that we don't need to worry about becoming saints. This is Jesus' work in us, and our job is to let Him take care of everything. We can see this Francis is not only one of St. Therese's patron saints, but one of her favorites. Their messages have a lot in common. They both repeated frequently that surrendering ourselves into the arms of God is the easiest and most effective way to be close to Him, which is all that being a saint really is.

Here are the words Francis de Sales used to convey that good news:

"Anxiety is the greatest evil that can befall a soul, except sin. God commands you to pray, but He forbids you to worry."

"Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations, and say continually: 'The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart has trusted in Him, and I am helped. He is not only with me but in me and I in Him.'"

"We shall steer safely through every storm, so long as our heart is right, our intention fervent, our courage steadfast, and our trust fixed on God. If at times we are somewhat stunned by the tempest, never fear. Let us take a breath and go on afresh."

"Make friends with the angels, who though invisible are always with you. Often invoke them, constantly praise them, and make good use of their help and assistance in all your temporal and spiritual affairs."

"Half an hour's meditation each day is essential, except when you are busy. Then a full hour is needed."

And finally, his good friend and spiritual daughter St. Jane Frances de Chantal tells us that St. Francis once said to her:

"I have been feeling most strongly how great a blessing it is to be a child, though an unworthy one, of this glorious Mother. Let us undertake great things under Mary's patronage, for she will never leave us destitute of what we are struggling to attain.” 

*  *  *

St. Francis de Sales, pray for us!
St. Jane de Chantal, help us, too, to become spiritual children of your spiritual father!
St. Therese, pray for us and obtain for us many roses of heavenly graces through the teachings and love of your patron and big brother St. Francis!

Draw me, we will run!

P.S. That wonderful painting of the Good Shepherd is by Sybil Parker who painted it in 1895, the same year St. Therese made her Act of Oblation to Merciful Love, which you can find on this page (below some other prayers and pictures we love).

Maria autem conservabat omnia verba haec conferens in corde suo.
"But Mary kept all these words, pondering them in her heart." - Luke 2:19

. . . et mater eius conservabat omnia verba haec in corde suo.
". . . and His mother kept all these words in her heart." - Luke 2:51

*    *     *

I am finding my consolation in our Mother Mary today. I have been waking with sadness because I can't remember so much, but today I realized the truth I have been groping for this past week:

Our Lady, Cause of our Joy, is also Our Lady of Joyful Surprises, and just when I am ready to throw in the towel, she rouses me for another round, supplying me with sustaining truth - or better yet Sustaining Truth. 

I had been thinking yesterday what I had often thought to console myself: that all this beauty I forget will be returned to me in Heaven - I will remember in exact detail the gifts from His hand, the people I love and all they said and did. But in the wake of The Most Glorious and Happy Day of our lives, i.e. The Wedding of the Century, this was a small consolation. How could I keep it all in my heart and mind NOW?

I don't think I can, but Our Lady, our beautiful Blessed Mother can and does. She is the Seat of Wisdom, and Wisdom requires Memory. But more to the point, she is the seat of Wisdom because Wisdom, that is God, sits in her lap, and He certainly doesn't forget anything (unless it be our sins when we cast them into His mercy).

Lately when I haven't been preparing for The Wedding, rejoicing in The Wedding, enjoying the aftermath of the Wedding, or mourning my inability to possess The Wedding completely in my heart and mind, memory and imagination, I have been delighting in the picture above of The Virgin and Child Embracing, and I have a new image of it because it appears on the cover of a new to me Christmas-tide book by the beloved Colettine Poor Clare, Mother Mary Francis. 

The book is Cause of Our Joy, and the painting is by Giovanni Battista Salvi di Sassoferrato (known as Sassoferrato, the town of his beginnings). Come to find out that Sassoferrato is also the artist who gave me (through the triple charity of my happy twin and her older sister and brother-in-law) a favorite image of Mary I have treasured for 41 years now: The Virgin in Prayer (pictured at the tippy top of this post).

I couldn't resist adding two more images by Sassy, just to complete the sequence. We began with The Virgin in Prayer: Our Lady as she was just prior to the appearance of Gabriel and his world-shattering announcement and invitation (and her resounding YES!) . . . then see the fruit of God's mercy and its Incarnation in her arms . . . then rejoice in the Virgin and Child Embracing . . . and at last we find Our Lady as St. Luke describes her: the Madonna with the Christ Child, which I prefer to call "Madonna reflecting on the Word made flesh."

Since I am myself reflecting (or musing, as we call it here, not able to take ourselves too seriously since like Marcel we're not usually too serious, and when we are, it's time to lighten up) on my forgetfulness, I'd like to add that I was reminded by these images - or rather by the information I found with these images when searching for them online so I could share them with you - that to my utter Joyful Surprise about twelve and a half months ago (December 2023), I SAW the originals IN PERSON in the National Gallery in London!!! Oops, I forgot!

I even bought there a nifty 3-D image of the Virgin and Child Embracing, and it sat on my kitchen counter most of the year. I think I recently gave it away, because what fun is a treasured possession until we part with it and make room for The Real Treasure? But no matter, it was given back to me last week when my Armenian brother let me take (little thief that I am, in imitation of our sister St. Therese) the book that boasted Sassy's wonderful painting on its cover.

All of which is merely to say Thank You Blessed Mother! You were so good at everything I try and fail at, but you don't keep anything for yourself, you give it all to us! Thank you for remembering everything. Please keep The Wedding in your heart and I will know it is safe there. I will get it from you in Heaven if not before, and when I glimpse it in part here below, please fill me with the gratitude that is so much more precious than my silly regret at my Marcellian forgetfulness.

Best Joy from this awesome Lady of Joyful Surprises? I expected it, and yet it is hard to grasp, hard to believe, but truly it happened:

One week ago today, as I write, my dear FDIL became a plain old pickle (DIL) and I have now transformed from FMIL to your basic run of the mill MIL. The happy couple are hitched for life, and to my world's rejoicing (and mine), I have a daughter at long last! God and our Blessed Mother have once again done their work, happily ever after is unfolding, and we ask that the pages be many . . .

Thank you to all who prayed, all who could participate in person, all who helped with the seemingly endless details which so sweetly ended in a pre-wedding welcome, a Nuptial Mass, and a wedding reception that surpassed our wildest and most extravagantly joyful dreams. Joy, joy, joy, as befits a couple so devoted to Our Lady of Joyful Surprises. May our Mother Mary continue to surprise them with joy for as long as they both shall live in this land of exile sweetened by their union with each other and the Blessed Trinity, and may their Heaven (both in Heaven and on earth) be spent snuggled near their sweet Mother embracing her Child.

Draw me; we will run!

Two years ago our little sister had a milestone birthday  - 150 years! That means this year she is 152! My goodness she is well preserved! Except in the case of the saints, it is more than preservation, more than surviving - she is thriving and still having a party each and every day, deputed as she is to be the Head of the Ministry of Roses. Lest that sound like a grand and grown up title, picture her as a little girl strewing rose petals before the Blessed Sacrament in the Corpus Christi procession. She is wearing her First Holy Communion dress, and she looks like . . . a flower girl, like the ones we will be so grateful for this Saturday when we hope you will join us in praying for the Happily Ever After of our eldest son and his darling Catholic bride. . .

But I digress . . . and if I am going to digress, I'd better give you a health update. Therese and I have both gotten older than 50, and isn't that when we cheerfully start talking about our health to any and all who inquire?

My own health is terrific, praise God. My local community has plied me with nutritious meals, while the Mystical Body here and abroad has fed my heart and soul with the graces raining down in answer to their prayers.

More specifically, I am taking a two week break from chemo infusions (had two that went beautifully, have two more to go) in order to host the wedding of - well, if not the century, at least the wedding of the centenary (of Therese's canonization, which we celebrate in May of this year) and The Wedding of the Jubilee Year! Hooray!

All this chemo is simply so that (a) any lingering bit of cancer will be decimated (sorry cancer, but you are not meant to be my gate to heaven this time) and (b) primarily to prevent recurrence, reducing my chances of said recurrence from 16% to 8%. I am in awe of the science, but even more in awe of the God who made us all, and made some of us such smart healers and researchers and medical professionals. May He bless all working in these fields, as well as all benefiting and trying to benefit from medical expertise.

In other words, all is well with me, and on this day that we celebrate little Therese and prepare for our dear J and M's wedding this Saturday, January 4 (St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, pray for us!), I am thinking about two other weddings that occurred on this day (St. Therese, Little Flower, pray for us!) some decades ago. My, the graces were flowing then - and they still are! Such happy marriages, such amazing paths along which the hand of our dear Jesus has guided these two spousal sets.

Thank You, Jesus, for the sacraments! Please fill us with Your sacramental graces, and for those who have somehow slipped out of Your loving embrace, pour down on them actual graces to bring them back into the heart of the Church where You water and refresh us so thoroughly.

Happy Anniversary JH and L! Happy anniversary COB and KBB!
Your lives have been an inspiration to me and to many - may His love draw you ever closer and may Our Lady wrap you in her starry mantle close to the infant King of the Universe!

Finally, happy birthday little Therese!
Do your thing, shower us with roses, and throw in a cupcake or a glass of wine for good measure. Oh, and since you love nothing more than a good nuptial union (whether it be of the spiritual kind with the Spouse of our souls, or the more natural kind yet doused in heavenly Charity), do help us with all these joyful last minute wedding preparations. May all the travelers be surrounded and guided here by the angels, and may the bride and groom feel the peace of Christ beyond all understanding, now and always.

Help us to live your Little Way, dear little sister. Help us to understand your words and the path you have traveled before us so successfully . . . You insisted:

"To remain little before God is to recognize one’s nothingness, to expect all things from the good God just as a little child expects all things from its father; it is not to be troubled by anything. . ..Even among poor people, a child is given all it needs, as long as it is very little, but as soon as it has grown up, the father does not want to support it any longer and says: ‘Work, now you are able to take care of yourself.’ Because I never want to hear these words I do not want to grow up, feeling that I can never earn my living, that is, eternal life in heaven. So I have stayed little, and have no other occupation than that of gathering the flowers of love and sacrifice and of offering them to the good God to please Him. Again, to stay little means not attributing the virtues we practice to ourselves, under the impression that we are capable of such things, but to recognize that the good God places this treasure of virtue in the hand of His little child for him to use as he needs it; and that it remains God’s treasure. . . It is not to become discouraged over one’s faults, for children fall often, but they are too little to hurt themselves very much.”

Yes, Therese, with out angels and yours, do help us to follow your Little Way in the arms of Jesus forever!

Draw me, we will RUN!!!!!

​Seven years ago today, I wrote here:

Do you know what day it is as I write and officially begin this blog? It's the feast of St. John the Evangelist, the beloved disciple, the Apostle of Love "to whom secrets were revealed and who spread the words of life through all the world" (as the opening antiphon to his Mass puts it).

I am in awe of God's marvelous timing.
Marcel Van was (and is from heaven now), like St. John, an Apostle of Love, and he too had secrets revealed to him and spread the words of life through all the world.

I too would like to be an Apostle of Love. Marcel has shared his secrets with me, and especially the secret of Jesus' limitless love, and I too want to spread Marcel's words of littleness and Jesus' words of life through all the world. 

Like Marcel, I don't even need to understand exactly what it is I'm writing: I'm likely too little to understand the secrets confided to my heart and pen, even as I can say, with St. John and St. Peter, "Surely we cannot help speaking of what we have heard and seen."

But Jesus always puts it best, and I hear Him tell me as He told Marcel on Christmas night 72 years ago in 1945 [now it is 79 years ago]:

"Your duty simply consists in writing."

I rejoice in my mission of writing, and I ask my guardian angel to protect me from ever worrying for a single moment about how many people my words will reach - that is, as Jesus would tell the Apostles of Love before me, none of my business. My business is simply to write, and if I reach one single soul, it will have been worth it.

You are reading this post now, so it has already been worth it. 
 
*   *   *

It was not seven years ago but twenty-three years ago on the feast of St. John the Beloved that my little family went to the (then) P.I.M.E. house on Singer Island in south Florida to attend early morning Mass with a great Italian missionary and lover of St. Therese, Fr. Nicholas Maestrini (P.I.M.E.). When I once asked him what was his favorite book of the Bible, he looked at me like I was silly to ask, the answer was so obvious.

"The Gospel of John, the Apostle of Love."

Why?
Because of the Last Supper Discourse beginning in Chapter 14 with:

"Let not your hearts be troubled."

How adorable is Jesus, telling us just before His Passion, "Don't worry about anything." How He loves us! How He asks the impossible!

One of the many reasons I loved and still love Marcel and his Conversations with Jesus, Mary, and Therese of the Child Jesus is that Jesus (and Mary and St. Therese) are forever - or at least for the entire length of this dear, long book - telling Marcel (and us through him), "Don't worry about anything." On one occasion, Jesus even says something like, "Don't worry about anything any more, ever." How's that for a commentary on His own words in Scripture?

Seven years ago when I wrote my first real post here I asked, "Why Miss Marcel?" which really amounted to "Why Marcel?" and I can answer these many moons later in the words of Bearded Jesus,, Fr. Antonio Boucher, CSsR, Marcel Van's spiritual director and novice master in the Redemptorists:

"First of all, I have been profoundly moved by the unbelievable familiarity and tenderness of which Brother Marcel has been the object on the part of his heavenly interlocutors. On the other hand, his exemplary life, his limpidity of soul, his perfect obedience to his director and his generosity in face of sacrifice favourably impressed me regarding his truthfulness and the authenticity of his communications; this, obviously, with all the reserve necessary, not wishing in anything to anticipate the final judgment which belongs by right to the authority of the Church."  (from the Introduction to Conversations)

My favorite book of the Bible is the Song of Songs of Solomon which begins, "Let Him kiss me with the kisses of His mouth." This desire for kisses from Jesus also explains my great love for Conversations because Jesus is forever telling Marcel about the kisses He has in store or is giving as they speak. And wonderfully, these kisses explain so much! On November 6, 1945, Jesus tells Marcel:

"My little apostle, remain in peace. If you are still tired today it is because of the kisses I am giving you . . . It is very painful, my child; I must do everything to repress my love before daring to give you some kisses, and in spite of these precautions, my kisses still tire you. My little friend, what will happen when you receive the real kiss? The effect of this kiss will be to draw your soul completely to unite itself directly to me, nothing less. If, because of all the kisses that I have just given you with so much care, you already have a red face, my little friend, it is because you are very weak; so I must try to spoil you in a thousand ways. My dear child, accept the sadness just as you accept the caresses that I pour on you at this time."

Like Marcel, I'm a bit tired today, and that threatens to make me sad because I want to be bright-eyed and bushy tailed for every beautiful thing happening in these days of Christmas.

I was tempted to think this tiredness the natural result of staying up too late and waking up too early, but once again I've learned what I needed to know from our sweet little brother Marcel and the Spouse of his soul and ours. . . . First off, always blame Jesus! He wanted to wish me a Happy Anniversary of being Miss Marcel musing here, so He gave me a kiss to wake me, like with Sleeping Beauty (only I'd been sleeping far less long than that princess). But really, at the bottom of this tiredness-threatening-sadness is simply . . . . too many more of those kisses! What Love the Father has bestowed on us, and how very unready we are to receive His Love! And yet I wouldn't change a thing! Let Him kiss us with the kisses of His mouth! His Love is better than wine (even better than Christmas cookies and Brandy Alexanders!) - or really I should say, "Your love is better than wine, Your anointing oils are fragrant, Your name is oil poured out, that is why the maidens love you . . ."

How blessed we are, again like Marcel, to have met the fair French maiden Therese. She will teach us to follow in her footsteps, her Little Way, and even better, she teaches us to let Jesus scoop us up in His arms to take us to the Father, Who will then embrace us and allow us to live in His Love eternally. 

For whatever sadness that we feel - with Jesus and Marcel we call them bitter sweets in the box of chocolates He's given us - there is plenty more happiness to (over)compensate. These are the truly sweet chocolates, the Scotchmallows of the box, and here is how Marcel explains it, the reason he gives for his joy.

"My Jesus, why am I so happy today? I am so happy that it is impossible for me to continue to write the story of my vocation [his autobiography]. From the moment when I gave to my sister Saint Therese of the Child Jesus the name of 'sister,' I have been overcome with such joy that it has been impossible to hold my pen firmly enough to write. This joy lasted all day, except after the siesta when I felt a slight headache that disappeared immediately." (November 1, All Saints Day, 1945)

Yes, that familiar blend of joy, siesta, and a slight headache! 

Marcel, thank you for being our dearest little brother! Thank you for being the second St. Therese and the second Apostle of Love! Give St. John, the first Apostle of Love, a kiss for us! Give another - a big, smacking kiss like she requested in letters to be given to others - to our sister St. Therese.

And what shall we ask you to give Jesus and Mary and good St. Joseph? Please pass along three choice kisses to them along with a tender caress for Mary, a smile and thank you to our father St. Joseph, and a sweet little slap for baby Jesus. Nothing painful, just a soft little slap on top of the swaddling clothes covering His truly human infant bottom. Then kiss each of His darling hands for us, each of His adorable fingertips, and reassure Him that we have learned our lesson from Therese and just for today we are trying to remember it: we know it is His darling hands that guide everything. 

But we didn't finish our quotation from the Song of Songs . . . and our favorite prayer from our sister Therese comes here, for she stole it - the little thief! - from the Bride:

Draw me; we will run!!!

Merry Christmas! And happy feast of Jesus' beloved disciple, St. John. May he share with us the secrets he learned leaning on Our Savior's Sacred Heart, and may all of Heaven remind us: 
​No more need to worry about anything, any more, ever!

Let nothing discourage you, nothing depress you.
Let nothing alter your heart or your countenance.
Am I not here who am your Mother?
- Our Lady of Guadalupe to St. Juan Diegito and us

The Lord is near.
Have no anxiety at all, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, full of gratitude,
make known your requests to God.
Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
- St. Paul to the Philippians and us

From now on,
don't worry about anything any more, ever.
- Jesus to little Marcel Van and us

Cancer update:
For those in a hurry like Juan Diego today trying to avoid Our Lady so that he could find a priest for his uncle - and doesn't that put a smile on your face straight off??? - here is the latest on my wonderfully fun and undramatic cancer journey:

Praise God with me, please! In fact, hating to descend from the heights of Tepayac to the boring depths of cancer treatment, let's start this way:

Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!
Sing joyfully, O Israel!
Be glad and exult with all your heart,
O daughter Jerusalem.
The Lord has removed the judgment against you
He has turned away your enemies;
the King of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst,
you have no further misfortune to fear!
On that day, it shall be said to Jerusalem:
Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!
The Lord, your God, is in your midst,
a mighty savior;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
and renew you in His love,
He will sing joyfully because of you,
as one sings at festivals.
-the prophet Zephaniah, reading for Gaudete (Rejoice!) Sunday, 3rd week of Advent

In practical terms this means that my treatment has been going super well!
Your love, prayers, meals (for those who are local), smiles, emails, cards, Masses - in short, your charity - is working miracles!

The original prognosis was good, and I had a surgery (outpatient!) on St. Monica's Day (Aug 27) that got out the little lump of cancer. Then after a consultation and tests with City of Hope (yay, City of Hope! God bless all there!), we decided on chemotherapy to reduce chance of recurrence from 16% to 9%.

I have had two infusions of chemo so far, the first on the feast of St. Albert the Great and All Carmelite Souls (Nov 15) and the second just last week on St. Nicholas Day (Dec 6). Both were amazing!

There are three weeks of rest in between each (of 4 total) chemo infusions. The first three weeks went mildly by and brought us to Advent. Now this cycle (I am in the second three weeks) is a little harder, but not too much. There are myriad meds and protocols (fancy Nancy word for things to do) that help tons with any possible side effects, and to answer the super concerned and sweet question on everyone's mind and lips: Thanks be to God, no, I have felt no nausea! I was reassured from the beginning by the 4 levels of medication they have available in case I do feel nauseous (which tends to restore ones confidence in scientific progress!) - but by God's mercy and your prayers, nausea has simply not been a problem.

Sometimes I am awake more than I used to be, but I love my home and have plenty to do even in the wee hours. We are preparing for a wedding here, and that is SO JOYFUL that the conjunction with Advent and a couple of prescribed steroids means I am over the moon, almost literally. Okay, not really almost literally. But still, I am very, very happy and peaceful.

One gift I have been given that brings us back to today's GLORIOUS feast is the gift of freedom from fear. I have done nothing to earn this, it is entirely a gift, and your prayers are no doubt responsible. But in a nutshell: No part of this cancer journey has been scary, not from the original call back from a routine mammogram, not from the part where they needed to see me again and yet again to check if it might be, um, a problem, not from the day my primary saintly doctor told me with sadness in his voice that it was cancer (but we would beat it!) - not when my surgical oncologist told me he was sorry for my bad luck and I started arguing with him! I didn't have a problem with the diagnosis, but I had a huge problem with calling it bad luck!

Anyway, thanks to your love and God's, it has all been good luck. I call it "drama with no sin." I'm the kind of person who wanted (this time literally) to be an actress when I grew up. Now I get to act like I have cancer, and everyone is SO NICE to cancer patients! I have lost most of my hair (a wisp here and there is not flattering, but scarves and hats are SO cute on me!) - and this is great for authenticity. It was getting embarrassing accepting (and I do so gladly accept - I think I could be called a taker rather than a giver :) so much kindness when I had to say, "How am I? Well I feel great!" Now at least I can say, "I feel great, praise God," but the subtext can be: "Though I bet you don't want to be me because I am now a baldish woman!"

What's a little baldness in the service of making us all saints?
One of my favorite memories is when my husband and I traveled the arduous path to LAX (Los Angeles International Airport) to pick up my dear in-laws who had been, in their 80s, traveling for 24 hours across the country to escape a hurricane. We found each other in the belly of the LAX beast, and there was my dear mother in law clutching a Trader Joe's brown paper bag to her chest because it contained all their important documents! My father in law was in need of knee surgery and had limped and loped along 3000 miles, so now we had a wheelchair for him. 

He, like every other elderly or infirm person at LAX that night, refused it.

I made a solemn vow at that moment, nothing too formal, just, "When it's my turn, I will accept the wheelchair!"
Believe me, I wanted it that night and should have asked! Just because I'm a lazy bum, and thankfully Our Lady and Marcel have taught me in a particular passage from Conversations to be proud of it!
Marcel is doing what we do and feeling guilty and blaming himself even though he's done nothing super particularly wrong. He just hates the job he's been assigned because it is actually something he doesn't know how to do, and Our Lady says to him (I paraphrase):

"Little Flower, Marcel, I know you think you are lazy. You are not lazy. But even if you were lazy, just remember that I want you to be even more lazy! That will make me happy."

How good mothers are!
I was recently recounting how my mother failed me at the eleventh hour, the night before my wedding. Knowing she needed her sleep more than I did, she went to bed, leaving me up with my 9 month pregnant matron of honor/best friend (who had an hour drive back home to her husband) to finish the seating plan for the reception!

Oh mom! I forgive you! How good you were to set a boundary and get your sleep. And I think, though I never thought of it before, I can just use that moment - not getting anywhere near enough sleep the night before my wedding because after I finished the seating plan I remembered I had to pack for the honeymoon, and if that (packing for a trip with my husband) hasn't become the metaphor of my weakness and poverty, well . . . someone get me a wheelchair! I think that night of not enough sleep on the vigil of Happily Ever After might just be the reason life has been so very . . . . fallen!

Or then again, it could just be the Fall!

So. What about Our Lady of Guadalupe?
So much to tell!
I am going to do this to keep it simple.
I am going to give you a couple of links to articles I have online about her. The history is so splendid, I'd hate for you to miss out on it just because I'm lazy (which she is all about, which is why I adore her!).

Then I am going to transcribe a passage from this marvelous book I recommend by this marvelous saintly friend I recommend:
Am I Not Your Mother (published by Magnificat)
by Servant of God Archbishop Luis Maria Martinez 

So first, here are the links:

With St. Juan Diego to the Merciful Mother

Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the Very Littlest Ones

And now, on to dear Archbishop Martinez. He was primate (head honcho bishop guy) in Mexico before and during and after the awful Civil War where little St Jose and the Cristeros and Blessed Miguel Pro shouted "Viva Cristo Rey!" and were martyred because they wouldn't reject the Faith that was their heart. They made a great choice because how can you live without your heart? Or as Jesus says, "What good if you gain the whole world but lose your soul?"

So they lost their mortal lives, but no biggie, they gained Christ completely.
The problem, as my FDIL has put it so beautifully, is that while it can be easy to die for Christ, how do you live for Him?

In other words, for those NOT martyred in the Mexican persecution of all Catholics that raged about 100 years ago, how did they live, day to day, hour to hour, in such an environment of hatred and oppression? It was not entirely unlike today. That is, it was like today. I love our world and all the ins and  outs of it, but if you want to live really well, like say pet a horse now and then, that is not easily had. I mention this example because yesterday I got to pet a horse. Probably the first time in ten years. And I love horses. But they just don't seem to show up at my suburban doorstep, and that is a sign of how cut off we are from what really matters. (No, I don't actually want a horse for Christmas, nor even a puppy. I am so glad to be getting a daughter, and I can always drive back to the bucolic country estate where I found the horse.)

So the good Servant of God Archbishop Luis had the task of rousing the hearts of his flock in the midst of wolves. He did so by helping them in their dire poverty to rebuild and refurbish the awesome temple of Our Lord requested by Our Lady. This temple was, namely, the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe which houses, first and foremost, Jesus in the most Blessed Sacrament, and then on a much lesser (infinitely less) scale, it houses the miraculous tilma Our Lady gave to Juan Diego on this day, December 12, almost 500 years ago. (It will be 500 years in 2031. If anyone wants to go on a pilgrimage to Lisieux with me that year, it may be less crowded).

When they blessed the finished shinier Basilica, Archbishop Luis gave a novena of Masses, a series of homilies and liturgies for the community of Mexico City. Here is what he said in the first homily, speaking about the first words Our Lady said to Juan Diego on the day they first met, December 9, which we now celebrate as St. Juan Diego day.

From Servant of God Archbishop Luis Martinez:

Do we remember the first word that the Blessed Virgin pronounced on the summit of the Hill? It was a word of love, a word of incomparable predilection: "My son, Juan Diego, whom I love tenderly as a delicate little one." 

The Virgin did not just speak that word then, but she continues to speak it and will speak it until the end of time. It is necessary to repeat it: we are Juan Diego. He is not only the poor, unfortunate individual who looked at the hill filled with light, who contemplated the heavenly face of Mary, who heard her maternal and most sweet word as music from the heavens. We are Juan Diego. He is four centuries [now five] old. He will live until the end of time. And to the immortal Juan Diego our Lady says, "My son whom I love tenderly as a delicate little one."

Do we feel the exquisite sweetness, the heavenly softness of that word of love? When our Lady came to our soul, when she took possession, so to speak, of our people - which is her people - when she adopted our race, the first word that sprang from her most sweet heart, we should not forget. It was a word of love: "My son whom I love."

The love of the Holy Virgin was not fleeting. It is not like the affections of our fickle hearts, which change, fade, and suffer eclipses. No, the love of the Virgin is like the love of God. What Mary loved she continues to love, and now that word has a pulsating and divine timeliness. If at this moment we were to hear with our mortal ears that the Blessed Virgin was saying to us from her throne, "My little children, whom I love tenderly as little and delicate ones," these words would have no greater reality, no greater force, no greater sweetness than those spoken four centuries ago. The divine conquers time because the divine is not subject to the changes of the centuries. And through the centuries we receive the loving word in the depths of our heart.

We have undoubtedly thought it in the depths of our souls. Mary loves us! She loves us like delicate little children! Can we dream of a greater happiness? Ah, let other peoples boast of the power of their armies, the abundance of their treasures, the splendor of their science, the immensity of their territory, and the glory of their history. For us, the Blessed Virgin's love is worth more than all that! When one by one the nations of the earth come to tell us the marks of their greatness and their glory, we could answer them: Ah, we have more, much more than you because we have the love of the Mother of God! On our coats of arms there is a word that is worth all the glories of the earth.

"My son whom I love tenderly as a little and delicate one."
Let us not think that Our Lady's love has withered over the centuries. Let us not believe that it has waned little by little because of our ingratitude and our miseries and sins. No, I am pleased to repeat that Mary's love is like the love of God, like a divine gift. It is never withdrawn. She loves us, and she loves us tenderly as little and delicate ones. 

+ + +

There is more, as there always is when we speak of love. But for now, let me wish you a very Merry and Happy Feast of Our Mother who loves us tenderly and like the little and delicate ones that we are! Marcel is a fan! Therese is a fan! And overall, we here at Miss Marcel's Musings can't get enough of the love of God which bends down to delight in us, the littlest ones of His awesome creation.

Draw me; we will run!!!

"Come from Lebanon, my spouse, come from Lebanon, come: thou shalt be crowned . . .Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse: thou hast wounded my heart with one of thy eyes and with one hair of thy neck."    - Song of Songs 4:8,9

You considered that one hair fluttering at my neck;
You gazed at it upon my neck
And it captivated You . .      - Spiritual Canticle 31, St. John of the Cross

"The book, Story of a Soul, had become my dearest friend. It followed me everywhere and I did not cease reading or re-reading it without ever getting weary of it. There was nothing in this volume which did not conform to my thoughts, and what enthused me still more in the course of my reading was to see clearly that the spiritual life of Therese was identical to mine. Her thoughts, even her 'yes' and her 'no' were in harmony with my own thoughts and the little events of my life. . . Truly, never in my life have I met a book which was so well adapted to my thinking and feelings as is the Story of a Soul. I can confess that the story of Therese's soul is the story of my soul, and that Therese's soul is my very own."     - Autobiography, Marcel Van

"The book, Conversations (with Jesus, Mary, and Therese of the Child Jesus), had become my dearest friend. It followed me everywhere and I did not cease reading or re-reading it without ever getting weary of it. There was nothing in this volume which did not conform to my thoughts, and what enthused me still more in the course of my reading was to see clearly that the spiritual life of Marcel Van was identical to mine. His thoughts, even his 'yes' and his 'no' were in harmony with my own thoughts and the little events of my life . . . Truly, never in my life have I met a book which was so well adapted to my thinking and feelings as is Conversations. I can confess that the story of Marcel's conversations is the story of my conversations, and that Marcel's soul is my very own." - Miss Marcel

*   *   *
It's been a busy few weeks.

The poodle found a new home! Which is perhaps the understatement of the century because what happened really was that God brought together the perfect family and the perfect dog at the perfect moment, and Voila! Hammy found an ideal new home . . .

One of the photos above is Celine (Therese's next oldest sister and the one who entered Carmel after her) with Therese's dog Tom. And then there is the picture of me with Hammy. Just to make it clear which is which, the photo of Celine and Tom is black and white. But isn't it fun to think that the saints had dogs and loved them, just like we do? And sometimes they had to part with their dogs, but all for the greater glory of God, which is such a very happy thing that I can't find a reason to be sad in Hammy's (and our) new situation. Thank You, Jesus!

The other photos above reflect my recent obsession with hair.

First you see Therese's hair (that's the hair you can see on the wall of her bedroom at Les Bouissonnets, her childhood home in Lisieux when you visit)

Then there's a photo of my birthday hair from this past April.

And finally the photo that solves that perennial question: Why do we think Therese was a brunette when she was really a blonde?

I submit that hair changes colors according to the light, the weather, and whether it is wet, not to mention that if you throw a wad of bills at a hair salon you can likely exit with a different color hair than when you entered!

But perhaps most importantly, it's amazing to me that the colors I see out of my eyes and in the world are not usually the colors that get captured by my photography. And so, when we see the photo of Therese at 14 with her hair piled atop her head to look older to impress the bishop so that he would let her enter Carmel earlier than any bishop in his right mind would, her hair looks black, though clearly from the adorable little girl photos of Therese, we can tell her hair was blonde. 

Did it change as she grew older and before she entered Carmel at 15?
Maybe it darkened a little, as towheads are prone to do, but in fact I think it was just that the black and white photo we have of her with that updo doesn't do justice to her blondness.

And then there is the picture of her in Carmel when she played Joan of Arc in the play she had written for the community. She definitely has dark hair there - but I have to remind myself that she's wearing a wig! Because like most nuns who enter a cloistered religious order, when Therese had her clothing (the day she wore a wedding dress to more definitively leave the world and become a bride of Christ), part of the ceremony was to cut her hair once she entered and exchanged her wedding dress for her new habit. Hence the glorious hair now displayed on the wall of Les Bouissonnets, and this quote from a letter to her Aunt Celine Guerin (her mom's brother Isadore's wife) that accompanied a little lock of her shorn hair arranged on a card to represent a branch of lilies:

"The little gift which our good Mother was happy to have made for your feast will tell you better than I, dear Aunt, what I am powerless to tell you. My heart is filled with emotion when seeing this poor hair which undoubtedly has no other value but the delicate workmanship and the gracefulness of its arrangement, but which nevertheless was loved by him whom God took away from us."

Therese is referring to her papa, St. Louis, who delighted in the hair of his "little blonde rascal."

Well I say what goes around comes around, so when it was my turn to lose my hair (no, I have not entered a cloistered Carmel! More like I cloister myself and eat caramels, or look forward to a trip to Carmel-by-the-sea someday), I thought I ought to share some with Therese. We don't usually think about what her scalp may have looked like under that pretty veil, but hey, I recently got a wig (exactly the color of my hair which is not at all the darkened color of the wet hair Therese is wearing but thanks to Vanity on Main is rather a wonderfully highlighted carmel-and-chocolate), and I figured Therese might like one too!

Which leads us to the latest contest here at Miss Marcel's Musings.

Do you need miracles?
Do you think you are good at asking for what you need?
I sometimes find myself having a really hard time articulating my needs. Usually when I've forgotten to eat and now it's (almost) TOO LATE. At that point it is best to just eat anything, but if I need to express what I would like to eat (say to a waitress in a restaurant), I find myself even more indecisive than usual.

Lately, though, no doubt due to the prayers of y'all, or possibly this is another side to my character (because my long-suffering husband might agree that sometimes, for as long as he's known me at least, I can be quite articulate, nay even demanding about what I "need") - lately, I say, I've been demanding from Jesus exactly what we all need - and that is, to repeat that magnificent word: MIRACLES!

So.
I am not a person very concerned about my health. If I told you my dental history (or rather my history of going to the dentist) you would no doubt be appalled and I would lose all credibility.

Nonetheless, I managed to go get a routine mammogram last spring, and this eventually led to an outpatient surgery on St. Monica's feastday in August (also feast of the 7 Joys of Mary) when a kind surgeon removed a tiny cancerous tumor from my right breast. When that happens, you say you have cancer, bizarre as that sounds.

This led me to City of Hope, a fabulous place where there is tons of hope and even a huge statue of St. John Paul II and another of Our Lady of Guadalupe, both set in an extensive rose garden. Glorious! And the whole huge non-profit cancer center has the added benefit of satellite offices, one of which is much closer to where I live than the main campus where JPII is. So . . . after some tests showed that I would benefit from chemotherapy, I began my post-surgical cancer treatment on the feast of St. Albert the Great, also feast of All Carmelite Souls, on November 15.

Which leads us to now, when I've almost finished the three week "cycle," which means the three weeks following my first chemo infusion - which infusion was just like in the movies where I'm in a pretty room with nice nurses and my doctor wanders in to check on us and I have an IV that drips  important meds into my body so that any lingering microscopic cancer cells will die a quick death and I will be good as new.

The "good as new" part is happening very fast because, thanks be to God and again to your prayers, I am having very few side effects from the chemo (in particular, no nausea and no fatigue). But to be completely honest, there is one fun side effect that came to fruition on the feast of St. Francis Xavier yesterday. . .and here's where our miracles come in.

Starting on Thanksgiving, my hair began to decide it wouldn't like to live with me anymore. So little by little, it began, or rather they, these hairs that grow on my head, began to depart. I was ready!

I realized that I could pretend I minded, and then demand from Jesus a just compensation for this great sacrifice.

If you know me in person, then you know that my radiant beauty comes from my smile. This is a huge relief because in my experience a smile is much more reliable than pretty hair. You can have bad hair days nearly constantly, and sure, the bad smile day might occasionally be a problem, but for the most part, a big smile can be teased out by any of a million things (a slice of chocolate cake or a scotchmallow can bring a smile to my face instantly), whereas big hair won't necessarily cooperate even in the presence of a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie.

In other words, I'm not that sad about losing my hair, because I know my inner beauty can still shine out, but don't tell Jesus I'm not upset, because I'm trying to play the cancer card with Him.

My plan is to demand a miracle for every lost hair, and since I'm handing the hairs to Jesus through Mary, they actually (according to no less an expert than St. Louis Marie de Montfort) become tripled in value. Hence each lost hair is worth three miracles, and since I have (or had) a LOT of hair, with the excellent exchange rate, we're talking a TON of miracles. 

The bottom line is there are more miracles coming my way than I can possibly use, even counting every intention (and I am!) that I have ever prayed for or which has ever been commended to my prayers.

Our take-way?

Please ask for miracles! Our Lady was entirely clear about this in her apparition to St. Catherine Laboure when she gave us the Miraculous Medal. She said the non-shining jewels on her fingers represented the graces that people didn't ask for. If only we would ask, those gems would begin to shine brilliantly - shedding graces upon graces upon us! So please ask for lots of miracles, and say that Miss Marcel sent you. If you forget and say Suzie sent you, that works too!

Meanwhile, I thought there was a line I loved about a single hair in the Song of Songs, and I couldn't wait to find it, but then I simply couldn't find it. It wasn't there.

Next I thought it must be in St. John of the Cross, but I didn't find exactly what I wanted there either, though I got closer.

Still, I didn't quit because I love that line! I thought, finally, I could find it in St. Therese, and thanks to the search feature on my kindle, I did - and the line in one of Therese's letters then had a footnote back to the Song of Songs. What do you know? The first good Catholic translation of Song of Songs I used lamely left out the part about the single hair!

And so, thank you Douay Rheims! There it was in Song of Songs 4:9 -

"Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse: thou hast wounded my heart with one of thy eyes, and with the hair of thy neck."

St. John of the Cross explains that our eye which has wounded Christ is Faith. And that single hair? It is love. The neck on which the hair (love) rests, or actually upon which it flutters (restless to act) is fortitude.

Translation:

Let's take Therese's bold and persevering confidence and finally gain those miracles we've been asking for these ages upon ages. Let's point out that I have lost almost all (soon to be all) of my single hairs, and they were truly uncountable, at least by a mere mortal. My angel, though, has the exact number so Jesus can't hold back a single miracle of those we demand in exchange for my hairs.

If you feel shy, I'll demand them for you, but on Friday (St. Nicholas Day! Hooray!) I go in for my second round of chemo. That means I might be distracted with keeping the side effects at bay for the next few days after that, and so again I appeal to you to be forthright and insistent with Our Lord and Our Lady about what you need and, really, about what you want!

This might be a good place to add that I don't consider what I'm going through "suffering." 
For me suffering means something that causes unhappiness, and this has been a joy, largely because I live among the saints, and they are all treating me like a princess, or even a queen.. It's tremendously comforting, and then, too (it can't be said often enough), I'm experiencing no nausea. Thank You, Jesus!

To top it off, I got to lose the majority of my hair on the feast of St. Francis Xavier, which Therese and I co-opted for his co-patron of the missions, namely Therese herself, so I felt like finally I was able to offer something for those missionaries out in the field and their incipient flocks. Come, Lord Jesus, bring Your love and Your sacraments to all those who don't yet know You, and please bring them through missionaries after Your own Heart!

OH!
I almost forgot!
Speaking of Hearts, and His in particular, yesterday a wonderful priest friend told me that recently Pope Francis issued an encyclical letter "Dilexit Nos" (He loved us) on the Sacred Heart! Praise God!

Thanks to this terrific priest and thanks to Marcel's urging me to write our blog, I'm finally looking at this encyclical approximately 40 days after its release. And HOLY MACKEREL! I must have been living under a rock because Guess What? Who do you think is the heroine of this encyclical?

Yes, in all justice it ought to be St. Margaret Mary, but just like I discovered almost a year ago in Sacre Coeur, right where you'd think St. MM would get her due, there pops us St. Therese to steal the show. In Paris, it was the remarkably large and beautiful statue of Therese sculpted by her Trappist, Pere Marie-Bernard and flanked by massive amounts of votive candles which sat opposite the statue of Margaret Mary which, by contrast, looked small and boasted only one stand of votive candles. At least that's how I remember it.

Well let's just say for the record: Thank you, dear humble Margaret Mary. Where would we be without you? Oh so much further away from His love than we are now. Thank you!

And like any introvert worth her salt, I don't think St. Margaret Mary minds being upstaged, I don't think she minds a single bit, especially when her extroverted sister in Christ makes everyone draw even further into our Spouse's wounded side.

Here is what Pope Francis says in the last paragraph (before the conclusion) of this amazing encyclical, mentioning our sister St. Therese for the 24th time:

"In your own way, you too must be a missionary, like the apostles and the first disciples of Jesus, who went forth to proclaim the love of God, to tell others that Christ is alive and worth knowing. Saint Therese experienced this as an essential part of her oblation to merciful Love: “I wanted to give my Beloved to drink and I felt myself consumed with a thirst for souls”. That is your mission as well. Each of us must carry it out in his or her own way; you will come to see how you can be a missionary. Jesus deserves no less. If you accept the challenge, He will enlighten you, accompany you and strengthen you, and you will have an enriching experience that will bring you much happiness. It is not important whether you see immediate results; leave that to the Lord who works in the secret of our hearts. Keep experiencing the joy born of our efforts to share the love of Christ with others."

*  *  *

Pope Pius XI named St. Therese co-patron of the missions on a par with St. Francis Xavier, the Church's missionary par excellence, on December 14, 1927. She is still working to make us all missionaries with her, and her latest exploit is suffusing Dilexit Nos with the fragrance of her heavenly roses. As a culmination of the encyclical, our Holy Father recalls St. Therese's Act of Oblation and what it teaches us about God's merciful Heart and how to approach Him. With a cameo by St. Margaret Mary, here is the passage:

194. Saint Margaret Mary recounted that, in one of Christ’s appearances, He spoke of His heart’s passionate love for us, telling her that, “unable to contain the flames of His burning charity, He must spread them abroad”. [208] Since the Lord, who can do all things, desired in His divine freedom to require our cooperation, reparation can be understood as our removal of the obstacles we place before the expansion of Christ’s love in the world by our lack of trust, gratitude and self-sacrifice.


An Oblation to Love


195. To help us reflect more deeply on this mystery, we can turn once more to the luminous spirituality of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus. Therese was aware that in certain quarters an extreme form of reparation had developed, based on a willingness to offer oneself in sacrifice for others, and to become in some sense a “lightning rod” for the chastisements of divine justice. In her words, “I thought about the souls who offer themselves as victims of God’s justice in order to turn away the punishments reserved to sinners, drawing them upon themselves”. [209] However, as great and generous as such an offering might appear, she did not find it overly appealing: “I was far from feeling attracted to making it”. [210] So great an emphasis on God’s justice might eventually lead to the notion that Christ’s sacrifice was somehow incomplete or only partly efficacious, or that His mercy was not sufficiently powerful.


196. With her great spiritual insight, Saint Therese discovered that we can offer ourselves in another way, without the need to satisfy divine justice but by allowing the Lord’s infinite love to spread freely: “O my God! Is Your disdained love going to remain closed up within Your heart? It seems to me that if You were to find souls offering themselves as victims of holocaust to Your love, You would consume them rapidly; it seems to me, too, that You would be happy not to hold back the waves of infinite tenderness within You”. [211]


197. While nothing need be added to the one redemptive sacrifice of Christ, it remains true that our free refusal can prevent the heart of Christ from spreading the “waves of His infinite tenderness” in this world. Again, this is because the Lord wishes to respect our freedom. More than divine justice, it was the fact that Christ’s love might be refused that troubled the heart of Saint Therese, because for her, God’s justice is understood only in the light of His love. As we have seen, she contemplated all God’s perfections through His mercy, and thus saw them transfigured and resplendent with love. In her words, “even His justice (and perhaps this even more so than the others) seems to me clothed in love”. [212]


198. This was the origin of her Act of Oblation, not to God’s justice but to His merciful love. “I offer myself as a victim of holocaust to Your merciful love, asking You to consume me incessantly, allowing the waves of infinite tenderness shut up within You to overflow into my soul, and that thus I may become a martyr of Your love”. [213] It is important to realize that, for Therese, this was not only about allowing the heart of Christ to fill her heart, through her complete trust, with the beauty of His love, but also about letting that love, through her life, spread to others and thus transform the world. Again, in her words, “In the heart of the Church, my Mother, I shall be love… and thus my dream will be realized”. [214] The two aspects were inseparably united.


199. The Lord accepted her oblation. We see that shortly thereafter she stated that she felt an intense love for others and maintained that it came from the heart of Christ, prolonged through her. So she told her sister Léonie: “I love you a thousand times more tenderly than ordinary sisters love each other, for I can love you with the heart of our celestial Spouse”. [215] Later, to Maurice Bellière she wrote, “How I would like to make you understand the tenderness of the heart of Jesus, what He expects from you!” [216]

​
Thank you for your love and prayers, not only for me but for the whole Church and world. Thank you for your love of Jesus and your missionary efforts on His behalf, whether those are prayers, alms, or audible evangelizing. We are called, above all, to understand the tenderness of the heart of Jesus, and your love has helped me see His so much more clearly. May Therese shower you with roses!

Draw me; we will run!

Today is the glorious feast of the very fun St. Raphael Kalinowski, Polish Discalced Carmelite who got to exit stage left for Heaven not quite on this day in 1907, but on November 15, on the feast of All Carmelite Souls. What a great day to die, on the very day when your religious order is praying for every departed soul - which now includes you - of your own special club.

In RK's honor, and to twit him just a little, I'm sharing today his letter to the Lisieux Carmel about his experiences with little Soeur Therese in the few years after she herself went to Heaven in 1897 and before he followed her there to Jesus.

First, though, let's acknowledge St. Raph K's patron, St. Raphael the Archangel. I am forever recommending to people one of my favorite prayers - it is to St. Raphael, attributed to a Frenchman Charles Hallo, and Flannery O'Connor said it daily. I follow her in this, as in our love for the Faith and for books, but when it comes to particulars, Flan and I tend to diverge. I'm more of a gentle-read kind of gal, and she's into something a titch more uncomfortable, so I'm thrilled that we can leave our differences aside and simply agree on this prayer as one of the best.

Prayer to St. Raphael
​
​O Raphael, lead us toward those we are waiting for, those who are waiting for us: Raphael, Angel of happy meeting, lead us by the hand toward those we are looking for. May all our movements be guided by your Light and transfigured with your joy.

Angel, guide of Tobias, lay the request we now address to you at the feet of Him on whose unveiled Face you are privileged to gaze. Lonely and tired, crushed by the separations and sorrows of life, we feel the need of calling you and of pleading for the protection of your wings, so that we may not be as strangers in the province of joy, all ignorant of the concerns of our country. Remember the weak, you who are strong, you whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene and bright with the resplendent glory of God.

*  *  *
Note above that the photo of St. Raphael the Archangel was taken by my fave painter, Esteban Murillo. How I love his beautiful handiwork! 

The photo under the angel depicts our buddy and brother, St. Raphael Kalinowski. I'm not sure who took that photo, but wow, it's kind of intense if you ask me! Nonetheless, I love that we can see St. Raph's face . . .all the better to imagine him bursting into a laugh when we tell the story that comes next!

St. Raphael, when he was merely Fr. Raphael of St. Joseph, O.C.D. (no, not obsessive compulsive, but of the Order of Carmelites Discalced!), wrote to the Lisieux Carmel on October 9, 1902, only five years after Therese had flown the coop, leaving this exile for Heaven. She was still simply SIster Therese, no cause or process begun . . . Father's letter is in the "Shower of Roses" included as back matter in the 1911 French edition of Story of a Soul. Forgive me for taking some liberty with the translation of this letter. I'm dependent on my guardian angel for most of my French, and like Padre Pio's angel, not to mention Therese and Marcel themselves, the little imps, my angel likes to tease me. Regardless of my limitations, you'll get the gist.

Fr. Raphael writes: 

October 9, 1902

Reparation

Most Reverend Mother,

The inscription at the head of this letter indicates my duty to make amends for a fault committed by me towards your little saint, Sister Therese of the Child Jesus.

Two or three years ago, when the manuscript was presented to me to do a translation into Polish of the life of this little flower of Carmel, I took the liberty of remarking that the language of our country does not suit her; that it would in no way be in the style of the original, and that reading it would cause nothing but disgust.

It was like putting a brake on the apostolate of this chosen one of God. She must have taken it to heart; and, on the other hand, not only knew how to act in such a way that the proposed translation would be brought to light, but moreover, took it directly from my person.

About eight days ago I returned to my cell, my soul tossed about by the waves of a stormy sea of inner sorrows and not knowing where to find refuge for shelter. . . And now my gaze falls on the French book of the life of the vengeful sister . . . I open it, and I come across the poem "Living on Love." 

Suddenly, the storm subsides, calm returns, something ineffable invades my whole being and transforms me from top to bottom. This hymn was therefore for me the lifeboat: the amiable sister having offered herself as pilot.

So I must note that today the promise, "I want to spend my Heaven doing good on earth . . . After my death I will cause a shower of roses to fall," has truly been realized.

Fr. Raphael of St. Joseph, Discalced Carmelite, Vicar Provincial

And there follows a parenthetical comment that Fr. Raphael Kalinowski died in the odor of sanctity in the year 1907 - on November 15 (tomorrow!), Feast of all Carmelite Souls. The note continues, "His cause for beatification is submitted to Holy Church."

In fact, his cause was formally opened on March 2, 1952, when he gained the title "Servant of God." Pope St. John Paul II beatified Fr. Raphael in 1983 in Kraków, in front of a crowd of over two million people. On November 17, 1991, he was canonized when, in St. Peter's Basilica, Pope St. John Paul II declared his boyhood hero a saint.

I'd say St. Therese got her revenge all right! After Fr. Raphael translated her Story of a Soul into Polish, she got to work polishing up his sanctity, whisking him off to heaven, and eventually making him, on November 17, 1991, when he was declared a saint by Pope St. John Paul II, the first Discalced Carmelite friar to be canonized since his holy father in Carmel, John of the Cross (1542–1591), was named a saint in 1726.

What do we make of this history today?
I think we can draw three conclusions, in honor of the Most Adorable and Blessed Trinity:

1. Always ask St. Therese when you need something! Even if you two haven't been close friends before, she just LOVES to shower down roses and thus lead the world of souls to God.

2. Take time to write a letter if you have any reason to do so. Look where it may land you! 

3. Apologies are just the best. I keep messing up, and I forget Therese's central Little Way message: failure is the new success! We don't have to be discouraged by our mess ups . . . that was the old way, the scary way, the difficult way. Yes, we are to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect, but that means IN LOVE not in common sense (haha, at least I hope that's what it means!)! And we won't make ourselves perfect - He will!

Think of Bach, Mozart, Jane Austen, my dear Murillo -
They were abundantly blessed by God with natural gifts, then set in a time and place wherein they could develop those gifts with the help of the greatest masters. The result was - hold on to your hat - not actually perfection, but really good stuff.

My opinion is that sometimes Bach has too many notes and sometimes Jane Austen has just a few too many words (forgive me, Martha, we can argue later!) . . . and possibly Murillo occasionally has a few too many brush strokes. Mozart might be perfect, so let's leave him out!

Only God is perfect. We are, by our natures, limited and corruptible. This means that our job is not to be what we are not, but to let God make us what He will.

So if you realize today that once again (or a dozen times) you've messed up, no worries!
Just ask the angels (St. Raphael and your guardian angel will be glad to help, and in fact you can't get rid of that dear guardian if you try!) and the saints to help. They love us so much!

St. Raphaels, pray for us!
St. Therese, pray for us!
Marcel Van, 2nd Little Flower and hidden apostle of love, pray for us!

​Draw me, we will run!

November 18th, the Memorial of the Dedication of the Basilicas of St. Peter and of St. Paul, is a feast dedication that likely dates all the way back to the 11th century. That means that when St. Therese and her papa, St. Louis, and her sister Celine, "the sweet echo of my soul," were on their pilgrimage to St. Peter's this week in 1887 (a mere 137 years ago), they were smack in the middle of this feast just as we are today!

What was the object of their pilgrimage? In two ways it was a celebration of the papacy, and in particular of the priesthood of Pope Leo XIII who sat in the Chair of St. Peter at the time.

From the amazing archives of the Carmel of LIsieux:

Leo XIII
His Holiness Pope Leo XIII, born Vincenzo Giocchino Pecci.Born March 2, 1810 in Carpineto, died July 20, 1903 in Rome.
On the occasion of the celebration of his 50 years of priesthood, a diocesan pilgrimage to Coutances and Bayeux was organized, in which Mr. Martin, Céline and Thérèse took part.
During the pontifical audience, Thérèse asked the Pope for authorization to enter Carmel at the age of fifteen. “The good Pope is so old that one would say that he is dead,” writes Thérèse irreverently to Pauline. However, he survived her by five years.

*  *  *

Therese had felt the tug, the pull, the resounding call of Jesus to enter Carmel, and she was determined to enter by the time she was 15 a few months later. Her father had granted his permission; they had together visited the local bishop who put her off; now they took this opportunity to travel (which her dear father loved to do, traveling frequently on pilgrimage, but only this once with Therese) - to Rome, to the Holy Father himself, with a guaranteed audience since the purpose of the pilgrimage was to congratulate and rejoice with Pope Leo XIII. On the way there, the pilgrimage group stopped in Sacre Coeur, still being built at the time but complete already in the crypt and already having begun their ceaseless adoration of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament that continues to the present.

It was miraculous to visit Sacre Coeur for the first time myself this past December - almost a year ago now - with the joy of rising in the night (if you ever go, stay in the pilgrims' rooms inside the Basilica and have a tryst with sweet Jesus in the romantic Paris night) and the thrill of going to adore the same Lord and Spouse of our souls Whom Therese adored there those few years before. In Sacre Coeur, the Blessed Sacrament is usually exposed over the high altar in the main body of the upper story of the church, but during our brief two day, one night visit, due to some Advent liturgical event, Our Lord was waiting for us in the crypt as He had waited for Therese. 

An aside (haha, which could be the name of this blog, but then where would we be without Marcel?) - I just looked up the date of Therese's visit to Sacre Coeur in the hopes that it was today. Better yet, her visit en route to Rome was on November 6 of that year, which turns out to be the same day (different year!) as my first date with my husband. How time flies!

As I walked through the dark Basilica at 3 a.m. or so 11 months ago this week, making my way to the crypt for some stolen time with our ever waiting Lord and God, I found myself going down stairs and approaching an area of light - it was one of the many crypt side chapels, and there were adorers kneeling and sitting, and there was Jesus, King of the Universe, hidden in the humble disguise of a piece of bread. What love!

I was tired and the thought of sitting in one of those chairs didn't attract me, let alone the prospect of kneeling . . . and so I found a quiet spot against the wall of the few steps leading down to the chapel and just sat in awe. And eventually I looked up at the wall I leaned against and saw a plaque saying that it was here Therese had been! Ah, Love!

This world is so full of wonders - what can the next one be like?
Or better yet, this world within the Real World of Paradise that surrounds us - I know we were kicked out, and yet when the Good Shepherd leaves the Safe, Happy Place to come in search of the lost sheep that we are - oh, how is this world now not Paradise again?

I've been reading a wonderful little book about a woman who got breast cancer in 1994 and had a chance to re-evaluate her life. Mostly she was super scared, already living what looks to me like a generous life, married with children, working hard and loving God, but for whatever reason, He took that moment to shake her up and let her worry that maybe she'd die, maybe her children (still young) would be left without her, maybe her husband would remarry, and so on and so forth. As it turns out, in His kind providence this good woman is still alive and has spent a lot of time helping others with breast cancer to have a sense of humor and see the blessings of God in their lives.

I love this book because it's so very readable (it's called The Hat that Saved My Life, written by Becky Olson) and the author is delightful. Still, we have a lot of differences. She was 43 when she was diagnosed and had five kids. I am 59 and have two grown sons (and the erstwhile home poodle has found another loving home, praise God!) . . . and I suppose at her age and in her situation, although she had lost some grandparents and perhaps others close to her, it wasn't anything like the parade of loved ones we see marching ahead of us to the pearly gates as the years go on and on.

Her reaction at her diagnosis was fear.
Mine was joy, curiosity, intrigue . . .
It looked like the window was opening! I could see some familiar faces smiling and their hands beckoning me, but Marcel must have been in charge because it was one big prank. As I reached my hands to the high window sill - and who knows what I was thinking because I have no upper body strength to pull myself up - Jesus appeared, smiled gently and mischievously (I see where His little brother learned his tricks!), simply shut the window on my fingers. Thanks, Jesus!

I'm glad because His ideas are ALWAYS so much better than mine.
Don't get me wrong. I am not always glad THAT His ideas are so much better than mine, but given that they ALWAYS are, I'm glad He continues to unfold them in real time despite my occasionally diverging preferences for where our Little Way will lead.

This time, though, we've got a daughter to welcome into our family (-in-law, to be exact, the famous FDIL; the ultrasound at the surgical oncologist's just showed some boring under arm lymph nodes; no baby girl in me!), not to mention the joy of two sons, a beautiful community of the City of God spread from my own street to the far corners of the earth (hey Nigeria! Cheers today on this common feast of our closeness in Christ's Church!), and Porto's (though perhaps that's a store-story for another time. Just think Cuban savory and sweet bakery, with an emphasis on the dulce de leche besitos, and the guava-cheese strudels called "refugiados". . .) And so, I'm happy to stick around and deal with my first round of chemo which has been, awesomely, so far so good. No Porto's in Santa Clarita City of Hope, but fun snacks nonetheless, lots of cold bottled water (or tea and coffee if you prefer), comfy recliners, warm blankets, amazing nurses, and a wonderful doctor who kept checking in with those of us being dripped into under the loving care of the angels.

So as for me, I'm well . . . Last week I got a fun new short haircut and a fun new (wear-as-needed and who knows if it will be needed) wig that looks just like my real hair but better and makes me look a little like some rendition of my mom in days past (really fun though a little strange to see that) . . . Then I had a dear friend drive me to chemo infusion round one last Friday and found out on Saturday that my dearest sister in the world wants to take me to round two on December 6th . . . and oh how I love medicine! I'm surrounded by lots of pills that make me feel better when I have the slightest feeling I might feel worse . . . and how I love friendship and charity. Three months of a meal train? I think I've died and gone to Heaven already! May God reward the kindness of so many kind friends!

But let's get back to this week in the life of little Therese. She had it far rougher than I do, for she was going all that way to St. Peter's to plead with the Pope for her early entrance to Carmel. He was her last hope, and it was a longshot.

Thanks again to the Carmel of Lisieux, here's her letter to Pauline, written the very night that came at the end of the big day (November 20) that itself came and went without a clear answer for her. Isn't that just His way? But as you'll see, she keeps her spunk. I find her honesty adorable.

20th November 1887
            My dear little Pauline,
            The good Lord made me go through many trials before making me enter Carmel. I'll tell you how the Pope's visit went. Oh! Pauline, if you had been able to read my heart you would have seen great confidence there; I think I did what the Good Lord wanted of me, now all I have to do is pray.
            Monseigneur was not there, M. Révérony replaced him; to get an idea of ​​the audience you would have had to be there. The Pope was seated on a large, very high chair. M. Révérony was close to him, he watched the pilgrims passing in front of the Pope after having kissed his foot, then he said a few words. You can imagine how my heart was pounding when I saw my turn coming, but I didn't want to go back without having spoken to the Pope. I said what you told me in your letter, but not everything because M. Révérony did not give me the time, he said immediately: Most Holy Father, she is a child who wants to enter Carmel at fifteen, but her superiors are dealing with her at the moment. (The good Pope is so old that it looks like he is dead, I would never have imagined him like that, he can hardly say anything, it is M. Révérony who is speaking). I would have liked to be able to explain my case but there was no way. The Holy Father told me simply: God willing, you will enter. Then I was taken to another room. Oh! Pauline, I can't tell you what I felt, I was like devastated, I felt abandoned, and then I'm so far, so far... I could cry writing this letter, I have the heart quite big. However, the Good Lord cannot give me trials that are beyond my strength. He gave me the courage to endure this ordeal, oh! he is very tall... But Pauline, I am the little Ball of the Child Jesus; if He wants to smash His toy He's free, yes I'm willing whatever He wants.
            I haven't written what I would have liked at all, I can't write these things, I'd have to talk, and then you won't read my letter for three days, oh! Pauline, I have only the good God all alone, all alone...
            Goodbye Pauline darling, I can't tell you any more, I'm afraid Papa will come and ask me to read my letter, and it's impossible.
            Pray for your little girl.
            Theresita
            I would like to write to my darling Mother (Marie de Gonzague) but I cannot this evening. Ask her to please pray for his poor Theresita.
            Kiss my dear Marie for me, I wrote this letter also for her but I prefer to speak only to one person, I hope that she will understand her little Thérésita. I don't have time to re-read my letter, it is certainly full of mistakes, excuse me.

+  +  +

The story as told by Celine is even better, with more details and the whispering back and forth between Therese at his feet and the Holy Father hunched over, so old and frail and hard of hearing, asking her to repeat the words she was trying to choke out as the Swiss Guards and the pilgrimage chaplain (who was also one who had a say in when she could enter Carmel) told her, "Don't speak to him!" But Celine behind her commanded, "SPEAK!" and Therese spoke!

I love these two women! What a brave duo, what pluck!
And it worked, though it sure didn't look like it that day.
Therese, weeping, had to be carried away by the guards, if I remember rightly!
And yet when the New Year came, it turned out she had been given permission to enter!

Can you imagine if your daughter, your sister, your friend (anyone!?) was entering Carmel at 15?
And yet in this case it made sense because God had only 9 more years left for Therese in this exile (haha, I call it Paradise but that's my gift: a personality designed to annoy the glass-is-half-empty types) - and she had a lot of Good News to impart to us before she left. So obviously He had to stick her in a tiny convent in a tiny town at a period in history when no one cared about Catholics and her hidden sacrifices would be destined to die with her.

Except that they didn't. They reached their object - which was Love - and they shared that Love, that Person of Love, that Trinity of Love with the whole world! And like a boomerang, that Love returned to her so that, as she prophesied toward the end of her earthly life, the whole world would come to love her. 

Yes, little Therese, we do love you! Thank you for teaching us your Little Way (or rather His Little Way) of the complete abandonment of a child in his Father's arms. Keep teaching us please, because some of us have had pre-chemo brain for a long time, and who knows how much more dense and slow we'll become when chemo brain sets in? (On the other hand, incurable optimist and would-be-comic that I am, I can't help hoping that the reversal of one's intelligence as a side effect of chemo could mean I become suddenly brilliant!)

I hope your day today in Paradise is spectacular. Have a latte or some gelato for the Holy Father - whichever Holy Father you'd like to especially thank and toast! We're so lucky to belong to a community that knows how to celebrate for a thousand years - even longer! We'll be celebrating forever before we know it, but meanwhile, add the whipped cream. Low in calories and sprinkled with a touch of cocoa or cinnamon, it's the perfect prelude to the Light that is coming!

Draw me; we will run!