"The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them . . . Those who trust in Him will understand truth, and the faithful will abide with Him in love, because grace and mercy are upon His elect, and He watches over His holy ones." - Wisdom 3: 1, 9


Marie Rose Guadalupe is one of those lucky enough to be Blessed without having gone through the usual Process. She didn't live a long life here on earth, nor did she have a long process for her beatification. She was born and baptized, simply lived and thrived for six weeks outside her mama's womb and in her arms, and then left her identical twin sister to enjoy the view of their family in exile while she, little Rosie, flew to Heaven to watch over them from above.

Last night I re-watched a beautiful film (it sounds much better to watch a film than just a movie, doesn't it?) called "Collateral Beauty." Will Smith is a grieving father, and at one point he tells Death that he's heard it all, and none of it comforted him. Poor Will! But really poor all of us . . . Living in the cave as we do, even those of us happily residing in places of beauty surrounded by loved ones, ALL OF US are faced with the mystery of death and eternal life sooner or later, and what are we to make of it?

If we have lost someone dear to us - I mean really, really dear - and especially if they haven't lived out what would seem to be their full allotment of days, how can we thank our Father for His theft?

He gives us the words, and I've heard them said through tears:

"The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." - Job 1:21b

Today is Rosie's 18th birthday into Heaven. Some years I catch myself wondering what she looks like at this age (not that I get how Heavenly aging works!), and then I laugh because her twin is a beautiful strawberry blonde, and one can see Rose's reflection in MK's identical face. 

What takes a little more imagination is conjuring up an image of what she's doing now, and this is where Marcel comes in. He's the apostle of children, and while he lived on earth to age 31 and St. Therese to age 24, they both maintained their littleness to the end, which makes it easy to picture them helping Rosie shower graces on her family and their friends, as well as picturing these three Beata eating some glorious heavenly CAKE! Or at least helping us to some in celebration of their joy at having snuck out the back door of the cave and into the center of eternal bliss. I must have a picture here somewhere . . .

If you're wondering which one of these is a strawberry blonde, well, don't forget this is Miss Marcel's Musings, and in our musings, most faces turn out to be Asian because Marcel provides the images!

But here we've been talking (as well we should) about little Rosie when there are two more birthdays to celebrate . . .

These are less mysterious birthdays except for the odd conjunction of dates. You see, our own Jack Keogan, translator of Marcel into English (thus a man who, in our hearts, has won the Nobel Prize, the Pulitzer, the National Book Award, and the Newbery Medal) and Miss Marcel East (currently in the mid-West helping her priest-brother pack up for his new parishes) share a birthday each year, and each year I tend to forget it. This year Marcel played an extra special trick by reminding me I'd missed their birthday on the same day (he suggested) that was Rosie's heavenly birthday . . . Except that was yesterday, which was neither their birthday nor hers (on earth or in Heaven) . . . 

If it sounds like I'm in a muddle, I am!
But Those who trust in Him will understand truth . . . 
And it's all sorted now:

Jack and Mary Anne - happy (belated) birthday and many, many happy returns of the (belated) day!
I'll be asking Rosie to help Therese and Marcel shower you both with roses (and cake) - and thanking Jesus for letting me know Him so much better through knowing all three of you darlings!

And what does Marcel have to say?
I've never thought of making him the keeper of my memory (ooh, like another film I enjoyed, "The Giver") because if anything, mine is better than his was, or at least it's a tie for both of us having the worst memories on earth ever, but now that he is in "a better place" (sorry, Will, but there it is), he sees through the mind of God and therefore has a GREAT memory!

Nonetheless, I don't believe Heaven changes our personalities, which means that Marcel is still as big an imp as ever, only with a world stage on which to play out his pranks . . . so at the very least I can blame him for my lapses!

Ah, Marcel! Do me a favor please and accompany Rosie on her rounds today. Help her shower her family with all the heavenly graces they need: her brother on his honeymoon, her older sister having a new baby, and the others as they live, discern, rejoice, pray, laugh, cry, watch films, take naps, comfort babies, and miss you . . .

Rosie, I hope to make it to your earthly resting place with white roses today from them all . . . please remember too my friends Mary Anne and Jack - shower them with some of your heavenly roses so that my belated birthday greetings are full of sparkly joyful surprises for them today, on your day . . .

Little Therese, you're the one who somehow gained all the accolades: a best seller, a Doctorate, and official status as a canonized saint . . . Little Flower, in this hour, show your power by bringing us our needed miracles so that we may join you in glorifying the One who made us all and will take us all Home someday.

*   *   *

For those who read the last post and wondered about (or even searched for) the passage from Marcel that we needed for a friend, well, today we have the sequel - and the reference - for you!

A quick recap (and another thank you to the birthday boy):

We have available to us in exile FOUR volumes (yes, four, which is why it took dear Jack about twenty years to translate all these words) written by our little brother Marcel Van:

1. Autobiography
2. Conversations with Jesus, Mary, and Therese of the Child Jesus
3. Correspondence
4. Other Writings

Marcel wrote in Vietnamese (with the occasional French dictated to him by Jesus or Therese).

His novice master and spiritual director, the French Canadian Redemptorist he lovingly called "bearded Jesus," known to the rest of the world as Fr. Antonio Boucher, translated Marcel's Vietnamese pages into French. This took him about twenty years from the time of his return to Quebec (from Vietnam) to near his own entrance into Heaven.

The unsuspecting Jack Keogan, desirous of reading Marcel's Autobiography in English rather than French or Vietnamese, guilelessly took on the task of translating it into what we ironically enough call the "lingua franca" from the actual Lingua Franca, and next thing he and his adorable French wife knew, he was up to his ears in French because who better to keep translating into English those other three volumes than the man who'd translated the first!

When I got my hands and heart on the first volume, I immediately ordered the second. Soon after, I ordered Mary Anne (about to become Miss Marcel East) to get a copy of volume 2, Marcel's Conversations, for her Lenten reading. I'm a bossy person, I suppose, but I'm not used to people obeying me so quickly, let alone having my orders bring about such happy transformation in the hearts and minds of the obedient! Mary Anne obeyed and Miss Marcel was soon born from her ashes.

Not surprisingly, I quickly coveted volume 3, Marcel's Correspondence, but it was nowhere to be found. Now the unsuspecting one (one can never suspect all the roses Marcel and Therese have in store for their clients), I wrote to a website I found for the Marcel Van Association. Being a bear of little brain, I didn't carefully peruse said website to discover the author, so I didn't realize I was writing to the translator; I just wrote a begging letter to this effect:

"Please, sir, I want some more."

By return post (return email, to be exact), I received a note that began,

"This is your lucky day!"

Any day one receives an email from Jack Keogan, translator extrordinaire, is a lucky day! But that day really was one of the luckiest because he offered to send me a copy of the elusive Correspondence, and when I replied I needed two copies since I had no intention of sending mine to Mary Anne, he obligingly agreed and sent two! For fun and for free!

Thus began a brilliant friendship. I love these friendships wherein the other person gives and I happily receive! It's even better if the friend somehow misunderstands and thinks I'm the giving one. One such friend might be reading this today, and I hope she smiles in recognition. Yes, I've found my vocation! It is to receive all in the Heart of the Church! And thanks to friends like Jack, I'm able to fulfill my vocation beautifully and joyfully. Ever generous, he later sent me an English language copy of Other Writings when that translation came into print!

So thank you, Marcel, for writing so many words to draw us closer to Jesus. I might as well quote something you wrote from Jesus' dictation - oh, right after I at last solve the mystery!

As I suspected (when I am not unsuspecting, I'm quite a suspicious sort of person), the quote we were looking for a few days ago is not from Conversations, but from Marcel's Other Writings. It comes at 2-5-1952 on page 79.

I sure had a lot of fun, though, skimming through Conversations in search of the quote. Best book ever! Or at least I think so, and thanks to Marcel's kindness in writing down Jesus' words, while skimming I could read again just why it's my favorite book (and shockingly perhaps not everyone else's too). 

Wow! For once I opened right to the exact page!

At (512) on April 23, 1946, Jesus explains to Marcel:

"Why do I have to choose so many apostles for the expansion of the reign of my Love? Because it is necessary that there should be some for every category of person. You, for example, you must use a certain manner of speaking, while another will have to use a different one, which responds to the feelings of his audience. It is the same for crosses, for sufferings; I must choose different crosses for each soul to whom I send them, since, if I dealt with all souls in the same way, who would be able to walk along the path of perfection?"

Speaking of suffering and walking along the path of perfection, please continue praying for Bosco and his mom. They are suffering, and the cross seems far too heavy. As Fr. Groeschel once memorably remarked: "We want to tell Jesus which cross to give us, and we know exactly which one it is. I'd like that cross over there in the corner, the styrofoam one. The one with wheels!"

Dear Jesus, please switch out Bosco's heavy cross for a styrofoam one with wheels. He and his mama are such brave soldiers for you, but the spiritual battle is wearing them out. We know You know best, but You are also a very indulgent big brother, so please give them abundant strength, a lighter cross, and rest and peace in Your Heart and the Heart of our Blessed Mother. And since You want us to ask for everything with great confidence: Please heal them completely! Jesus, we know You can, we know You love us, and Jesus, we trust in You!

Dear Blessed Mother, please send your angels to Bosco and his mom, and to Rosie's family too. Let her come visit them with a host of angels, filling their hearts and minds this day with joy, light, and peace.

Padre Pio and your angel, team up with St. Irenaeus and his angel, along with your buddy Don Dolindo and your little friends Marcel and Therese and their angels, to bring many miracles to grace the belated birthdays of Jack and Miss Marcel East, and especially bring miracles (through the intercession of Brother Andre and St. Joseph as well) to Bosco and his family. And don't forget Rosie's family too! If any of her many grandparents aren't yet in Heaven, bring them there to celebrate this day with her before the eternal Face of God.

And now, dear reader, it's time for our final prayer and . . . a slice of birthday cake!

Draw me, we will run!

Full disclosure: I don't think that I, Miss Marcel, am allergic to mornings. 
Okay, maybe just a little allergic.

In any case, we thought today was a good day to make our Policy on Mornings clear. Not that we've always had a fully formed and articulated policy. Usually these blog posts are inspirations of the moment, so our policy is formed as we type, but let's be honest, there's no policy worth its salt that isn't disclaimable. I'm thinking there is nothing more impressive (in a completely pathetic and hilarious, namby-pamby sort of way) than the disclaimers that come before a movie - at least the ones on DVDs with special features. And lest you think I'm putting the cart before the horse, I just saw one of those last night and the disclaimer came before the feature film, not even in striking distance of a "view," "opinion," or "comment." So let's see if we can dig up one of those disclaimers and apply it now to our situation, seeing as we're about to Policy. (I figure this is a shameless era, one in which any noun can be verbed at the drop of a hat, so why not?)

Here we go!

"The views and opinions expressed on this blog are those of the writers and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the entities they represent, and in ten minutes may not even reflect the views or positions of the writer."

I figure if Marcel and Therese want to disclaim me, they're welcome, but I'm not seeing a lot of other blogs for our little patron and patroness! Okay, maybe there are scads of blogs for Therese, but Marcel? I like to think we're on the cutting edge here. You know, like ice skating near the Zamboni . . . 

Charlie Brown once said, “There are three things in life that people like to stare at: a flowing stream, a crackling fire, and a Zamboni clearing the ice.” But for the life of me, I can't find out or remember what Peppermint Patty called the Zamboni (or was it Marcie)? Sheesh, this is a morning of failing memory - but that's almost my whole point here. Mornings! Our policy on mornings! Are you ready?

It long ago came to my attention - and unfortunately this I can't forget - that dear Monsignor Escriva (that's what we called him back in the day when he was merely a Servant of God like our Marcel) once defined (or perhaps frequently defined, but once was all I needed) The Heroic Moment as the moment when the alarm goes off and one gets out of bed instantly.

Hmmmm.
This is about up there with that other Opus Dei saying, "The state of your closets reflects the state of your soul."

In a word, my commentary:

Harsh!

Hence our need for a morning policy of our own. But this also brings in a Heroic Moment policy. Not to mention a closet policy.

Okay, then, let's do it!

Policy Statement:

1. Contrary to common misconceptions, the heroic moment predates any reference to alarm clocks. The heroic moment, properly defined, is when you want to smack someone, and you smile instead. If the smile reaches your eyes, you are ready for canonization. This is the only time a living person can be canonized, though don't quote me on that, I haven't checked the new Code of Canon Law. (And yes, we here at MMM still call it "new.")

2. If the state of your closets reflects the state of your soul, it is a reflection of your charity, and the messier the closets, the greater your charity. If said closets are a crammed mess, that means you love those you live with (and those who give you a warning before they visit, and even those who simply ring the bell or knock rather than just walking in) enough to throw everything in the closet. Hucking extraneous objects into the closet allows loved ones, and even random wandering Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons, a path by which to reach a chair or sofa empty of debris and available for sitting and visiting. Good job, messy closet people!

2.b. This is as good a place as any to offer our Jehovah's Witness and Mormon policy: Keep them at your door, and by all means invite them in if you're able, so that they are subject to your charity rather than going to the next door neighbor's house to pick off poorly educated sheep for their straying flocks. You can practice your anecdotal powers on them ("Seeing you here reminds me of the time a salesman knocked on my door and tried to sell me cleaning polish. He took half the finish off my door knob!"), your joke telling skills ("Have you heard the one about the guy who walked into a bar . . .?"), or simply be kind ("How's your day? Are you thirsty? Can I give you something to drink?"). You might ask if you can pray the Our Father together and lead it yourself, or if they decline, you might ask them why they don't want to pray together. However much time you keep these well meaning but wrong headed proselytizers at your door, that's the same amount of time they can't be leading your neighbors into error. 

And finally, our official policy on morning (but don't hold us to it in case, per our disclaimer, we decide the commentaries, opinions, and views expressed here don't actually convey how we feel in ten minutes):

3. Waking up in the morning is a good thing . . . unless you can manage to sleep till the afternoon!

There's much more we could say about these policies. For instance, can a definition be a policy? Does the state of your closets have anything to do with the State you are currently residing in? Ought we to end sentences with prepositions? (See James Thurber, also cf. Winston Churchill on this one.) Is it better to get up in the morning or to invite all the kids into your bedroom for a family read-a-thon? We could go on, but it is actually morning while I write, and eggs are waiting. Which reminds me:

4. Whenever you do wake up, if this leads you out of bed and into the wider world, like the living room, do try to have some protein as soon as possible in order to alleviate the necessity of heroic moments, or at least to make them more likely than the smacking-people-when-you're-simply-hangry moments.

Again, I may have to step away from my own views, my policies even, because those eggs will have to wait while I tell you about that contest promised in the title of this post . . .

A new friend recently wrote to me through this blog - you too can do so by clicking on the Contact button, which allows you to send me an email and become a new friend just like that - and she needs a favor. She has a quote from Marcel's Conversations, and she wonders what the reference number is. Although we could give her the page number, I think the parenthetical number is better because then, no matter what edition one uses, the reference is standard and the passage will be at her (and our) fingertips. 

Unfortunately, when I said, just above, that "we could give her the page number," that was a somewhat hypothetical proposition, merely a pipe dream at present. To speak more exactly, I meant we could send it to her if we knew what it was, and that's where our contest comes in.

Not to speak badly about our friends, but St. Anthony and Marcel seem to have a deal, and it's not to my benefit, except perhaps in the long run. You see, whenever I want to find a particular passage in Marcel, they sit and giggle. Yes, you'd think giggling would be a little beneath a Doctor of the Church, but the problem is that it isn't beneath a Franciscan (why do you think St. Francis is so universally loved?), and St. Anthony was a Franciscan long before he was a Doctor of the Church. 

I don't want to appear to be criticizing St. Anthony. At least not more than he deserves for being a very teasing big brother, so let's sing his praises. He often finds lost things for us. And if you have the chance,  I even recommend naming all your children - maybe even your pets - after him, just to show him you acknowledge this great skill of his, and his extraordinary friendship. But even if God took away this particular skill from him (one tries not to think of Napoleon Dynamite, but ND's desire for skills does bring a smile to our faces), and gave it to, say, Marcel ("Dear Marcel, please come around, there's something lost that must be found!"), that would still leave St. Anthony the awesome title "Ark of the Testament" because he knew all Scripture by heart.

What I'm getting at here, besides buttering up St. Anthony and Jesus who gave him such wondrous gifts, is that I think he (St. Anthony, and probably little Jesus too) wants me to know Marcel by heart like St. Anthony knew the Scriptures, and so he doesn't miraculously give me the passages I want exactly when I want them. Like today when I want to find this passage to help our new friend, but since I haven't yet memorized Marcel, and since my friend is waiting, I need your help.

Yes, you! Do you have a copy of Conversations by your bedside or your uncluttered sofa? If it accidentally got tossed in the closet, please go dig it out, because not only does our friend need the citation soon, but (and here's what's in it for you) - whoever sends me the reference first (remember, you can simply click on the Contact button and write directly to me by email) WINS A PRIZE! 

I promise I won't pretend I found it directly, but I'll give credit to the finder and St. Anthony and Marcel!

And come to think of it, if more than one of you readers (and I have reason to believe there are at least a dozen of you out there) finds and sends me the reference, you will each get your very own prizes!

Here, then, is the passage whose missing citation we need to find. It is from Marcel's Conversations:

"Oh Jesus! You died through love, and now you are still greedy for sufferings in the heart of the one you love. I offer my heart to you without regret, to welcome with you dishonor and sadness, to fall with you on the way, to support the multitude of men and lift up the sinful soul, to atone for, with you, the sins which do not cease to accumulate each day. Yes, I wish to mingle a little of my blood with the blood of your divine Heart, for the purification of souls."

Perhaps the reason I haven't been able to find it is because it is a passage needed for someone else. Today, and just about every day of my life (already I want to change that to "absolutely every day of my life" so you see how necessary our seemingly ridiculous disclaimer is), I need not that passage but this passage:

"My dear little brother," (this is Jesus speaking to us in Conversations) "I am covering you unceasingly with kisses and I keep my lips forever pressed against your cheek." (198)

And you can bet that every single day my prayer is more like Marcel's when he tells Jesus (Who always wants us to tell Him everything) about all the things that irk him. Here's a good example, and it follows those words we just quoted about kisses. If you're following along in your copy of Convos, this is at (200):

Jesus: Now Marcel, do you want something? Do you want me to give you a kiss? I am going to give you one, all right? But Marcel, why are you sad? Tell me quickly so I can kiss you.

Marcel: Oh, I only feel a little fed up; and the reason is that, formerly, I had a comfortable bed while now I must lie on this poor bed that you see. It moves and cracks all the time, it's impossible to sleep. It's really detestable.

*   *   *

One of the gazillion things I love about Marcel is that when our little brother tells Jesus how he feels, we get such wonderful responses from our Divine Spouse. It doesn't matter what Marcel is complaining about (and he's often complaining about something), it's all just another opportunity for Jesus to patiently explain and help Marcel (and us) unite ourselves to Him. Which is exactly what the original prayer we're looking for expressed, namely a desire for this union, except I prefer asking for Jesus' kisses rather than "dishonor and sadness," and I know He wants us to tell Him the truth, not what we think He wants to hear . . .So complainers unite!

Ah, little Marcel, you are marvelous! We catch you offering Jesus so much, just like we sometimes do, and yet how quickly we forget what we've offered! Once upon a time, I have a feeling I recklessly offered to suffer for Jesus, although when He took me at my word, then I was in trouble. Kisses, Jesus, give us kisses! And not the Mother Teresa kind that are a code word for suffering, but the Marcel and Therese kind that are just simply kisses!

I'm fine with these kisses taking the form of words, even if the words explain suffering in a way I can understand. Like in the passage we're looking at now, where Marcel complains about his bed in answer to Jesus' question. (This might be a great way to start our prayer when we don't know how to pray, which is, for me, just about every day. We can imagine Jesus asking, "What's wrong?" and let our complaints roll out! But then let's remember to be quiet so Jesus can get a word in edgewise!)

We've been talking about mornings and sleep, and heroic moments, and then here's Marcel joining in, bringing up beds in the random passage I selected (the one I opened to in Conversations when I'd rather have opened to the prayer whose citation we need). Reading on, I love Jesus' response, and I love too that every time He speaks, He teaches us. But then He is the Word, so I'm not really surprised, just delighted.

On the 28th of December, 1945, in Conversations (201) to (202), after Marcel complains about his bed, Jesus replies:

"Ah! So that's the reason. But Marcel, so you've forgotten? Listen, I am going to refresh your memory. If you accept cheerfully this uncomfortable bed, you will be able to practice in one fell swoop three virtues . . . And what did your sister Therese teach you? When one is poor does one complain at having an uncomfortable bed? However Marcel, I do not wish to scold you; I simply want to teach you a lesson. Be happy to sleep in this uncomfortable bed. I will so arrange things that it will cause you less discomfort. Remember the three virtues that you must practice: obedience, self-denial, and poverty . . . In the past, precisely at this time of year, I also had to lie on the straw of little lambs. It felt very bad: there was a little straw and the straw also was damp, so much that I felt very uncomfortable. If, then, I had complained to the Blessed Virgin, nowhere could she have found me a more comfortable bed . . . now, my little friend you also must do the same. It is because Father Master has not been able to find a better bed that he has had to resign himself to giving you this one. However, Marcel, believe that you are much luckier than I because you have a mosquito net and woolen covers. Spoilt as you are, what reason would you have to complain? Offer me all of that and I will give you kisses! . . . 

"Marcel, it is necessary for you to realize that you haven't yet the least virtue. If, in these circumstances, I had not spoken to you, I do not know when you would have stopped having red eyes.

"Little Marcel, you have not the slightest virtue. And, to speak frankly, in your case there is nothing: one finds there nothing of beauty. But do not be sad because of it. Do you understand? Look at the flower which is your sister Therese; she recognized that she possessed nothing but in reality she possessed everything because, in possessing nothing, she obtained everything . . . Do not be discouraged, Marcel, all you will ask for, all you will wish for, I will grant to you. Do you now wish that I give you some kisses? How many do you want? But it is first necessary that you tell me: 'Dear Jesus, I love you.' Without that who would wish to kiss you? When you have said: 'Jesus, I love you,' I will give you as many as you wish for." 

*   *   *

Ah, Jesus!

We are so little, so weak, and yet you told us already through Therese that it is our weakness You love. And it is our loving our weakness that You love too! How could You stoop down so low if we were not so little? What glorious poverty is ours, and we want to run away from it, we want to be rich, and yet You came to live in our poverty so that we wouldn't be alone. Thank You for every imperfection this material world has to offer, and thank You for our minding it. Thank You that we are little princes and princesses who feel the pea under the 100 soft mattresses! Thank You for showing us through Marcel that Therese's message is for us, the very littlest ones, the pathetic first world complainers who are about to discover that our eggs (how lucky that we have eggs! And places to cook them!) are cold!

I haven't yet mentioned what the prize is for those of you who send me the citation in our contest. How about three thing, in honor of the Adorable Trinity?
The winners will receive:

A book, a treat (to eat while reading), and one of my favorite tea bags (unused and individually wrapped!)

Meanwhile, if your eggs have gotten cold, pierce the yolk with a fork before you microwave, and you will have less to complain about.

I do have one other favor to ask. A dear friend is in a rough spot. Her son, who has suffered a terrible illness in the past, is having a relapse. This brings on, as you can imagine, suffering for the whole family, and especially for my friend who fears the return of this mysterious illness. They have spectacular doctors and a whole treatment protocol, but what they need more than anything is another miracle. Do you have a favorite wonder-working saint? Please call on him or her for my dear friend and her son - we'll call him Bosco, the name of another dear friend and saint (and the name of a stuffed animal pup I once gave him) . . .

Dear Jesus, through all the love You bear Your saints and by all their intercessory power over Your Sacred Heart burning with love for us too, heal Bosco, our friend who is again suffering, and heal his dear Mama who is so scared. Please heal them both for good, and for all the good they want to do for you. We ask this in Your sweet name, Amen.

​Draw me, we will run!

Happy Solemnity of the Sacred Heart! 

Therese and Marcel have a special surprise for us today. They're spending this glorious feast hanging about the coattails of Fr. Almire Pichon, S.J., the Martin family's spiritual director, and they've brought us some priceless words of his on the Sacred Heart.

Father Pichon was first the director of Therese's oldest sister Marie, who became Sister Marie of the Sacred Heart (and that's an awesome story for another day), but like often happens to us, Marie had a hard time staying in close contact with a priest friend who was THAT holy and that much in demand. She once complained:
​
"He wrote me fatherly letters from time to time, but, overwhelmed by his correspondence and his retreats, . . . he sometimes left me for a long period without a letter. I have written him as many as fourteen times before receiving a single word in reply . . , In 1884 Father Pichon was called to Canada and the good God alone knows how I suffered over his departure."

To make matters worse, Father Pichon was definitely a declutterer, and he burned (or otherwise disposed of) all the letters her received from Marie's famous little sister Therese! But then again, what's Heaven for, if not to read everything we don't get a chance to read here in exile? 

I admit others quite convincingly might argue that Heaven is actually not for reading, but for doing more simply what we try to do by reading: namely for finally getting to know Jesus, our Love! This makes sense to me because it also explains why Heaven must be eternal: we're so slow on the uptake that even with His Divine Help, we're likely to need endless age upon age to begin to know the reality of His ardent love for us! The wonder, though, of Fr. Pichon was his ability - which he seems to have transmitted to his spiritual daughter Therese - to show us the Truth of Jesus' Love through his words (and His words) even now, before time becomes an ancient memory. 

The Sacred Heart was a big deal for Father Pichon (as for all good Jesuits), and so he wrote to Therese on August 16, 1989:

My dear Child in Jesus Christ,

How good it is for me to find you again in the Sacred Heart, or rather to feel that our souls are inseparable there. Your beloved little pages open doors and windows to me and Jesus grants me this joy of reading your soul well . . .

* * *

Not only did Fr. Pichon read her soul well, he formed her soul well, but then later when she was in Heaven, she had the joy of returning the favor and continuing to form his soul even better than it had been heretofore by all those long years of Jesuit training!

And so our brother and sister have for us on this solemnity a conference Father Pichon gave to help us better understand the Sacred Heart and stop being such ninnies, constantly afraid of our Best Friend instead of madly in love with Him! I found this talk in Seeds of the Kingdom, a book originally published in English by the Newman Press in 1961. Thank You, tireless Jesus, for books that tell us of Your Love and work on chipping away that silly load of fear we carry. Please grant, little Jesus, through the intercession of your servant Father Pichon that we might listen to his sweet words and finally obey the order to burn our strait-jackets in a conflagration of love! Little Flower, in this hour, show your power!

On a personal note, I learned that last bit about "Little Flower in this hour" from an ardent disciple of the Sacred Heart who is married to an ardent author on the Sacred Heart whose awesome book you can find HERE (by clicking on HERE!). From both of them, through their younger sister, as well as from a wonderful Jesuit of their acquaintance, I learned about the Sacred Heart and remained for my 4 years of college under His gaze in the image at the top of this post (thanks to yet another of their sisters!) . . . and so, in gratitude and in the hopes of stoking the fire of their love for Jesus even more, I'm going to do my best to use my speed-typing skill (we know from Napoleon Dynamite that skills are valuable!) all for the glory of God to get this beautiful conference onto the internet for posterity . . .

Guardian angels, you behold the Heart of Jesus in its fiery passion - help us to understand His love and abandon ourselves without fear into His adorable arms!

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From Seeds of the Kingdom

A conference on the Sacred Heart by Father Almire Pichon, S.J. 

"Abide in My Love"

Our Lord, speaking of those devoted to His Divine Heart, said to St. Margaret Mary, "I will give them the gift of touching the most hardened hearts," another promise that arouses a holy emulation. Is not this promise for you also? Your vocation - is it not eminently apostolic? With this devotion you will be all-powerful over rebellious temperaments, hard characters. Honor the Sacred Heart; He will keep His word and will give you the gift of touching the hardest hearts.

There are various dissimilar types of spirituality in the Church. The saints do not resemble one another. Of each one, the Church chants: "He has no equal." Each saint has his own moral physiognomy, his own spiritual character.

St. Francis de Sales was visited from time to time by St. Vincent de Paul. Both were holy, but they differed greatly, nonetheless. The spirituality of the one was not that of the other. St. Jerome lived in the time of St. Augustine. They practically pulled one another around by the hair, as is revealed by their argumentative letters. They had no mutual understanding of one another. St. Jerome, who had lived a lifetime without soiling his baptismal robes, was stricken to the marrow of his bones when he thought of the Day of Judgment. St. Augustine, who, on the other hand, had led a sinful life, reposed upon the sentiments of love that filled his heart. . . 

St. Bonaventure remarked that spiritual directors are divided into two categories. One is more attentive to bringing about the death of self, the other to fostering life and love. The first brings a man's thoughts back to himself; the second causes souls to repose upon the breast of Jesus. 

Here is a saintly director to whose feet comes a soul just emerging from a life of sin. Before admitting him to frequent Holy Communion, the director requires his penitent to undergo a long and painful labor to correct his defects. This method does not touch the heart. The director says: "Later, we shall see. For the moment be attentive to correcting your faults."

The other director, wishing to draw a soul from habitual sin, introduces him to the Heart of Jesus. Once the sinner becomes enamored of the love of God, it is comparatively easy for him to conquer his faults. The latter was the system of St. Francis de Sales, who so insisted upon this method that he almost lost his reputation as a spiritual director. It was bruited about that he was not a safe director, that he understood nothing of the direction of souls, because he admitted to Holy Communion two or three times a week persons who were still addicted to vanities, who even brought their fashions and furbelows to the Holy Table.

This was remarked to the saint. "What of it?" he asked. "At the moment I am engaged in setting fire to the house. When it is well-lighted, then will be the time to throw the furnishings out of the window." Permit me to say that of the two systems, I give the preference to the one in which love predominates; love expands, dilates the heart. A holy religious had this to say: "As for me, I shall always desire that God be the God of my heart."

Some of you have been serving God long enough, with might and main, in a kind of nervous tension, calling upon your conscience in a spirit of fear. Begin now to serve Him with your heart, through generosity, through love. To serve God through love is far more in accord with the Heart of God as well as with our own. The good can never equal the excellence of the best - love. Love eclipses everything else.

Were I to say to a person, "I esteem you, I venerate you," I would be saying a great deal. But is there not something more that I could say? Have I exhausted the human language in these words? No. I can say, "I love you." There is no word that can be added to that. Human language has then exhausted its resources. It can go no further because the human heart can go no further. 

"Love is the triumph of God in man," said Pere Eymard. Even under the ancient law, the law of fear, do you know what God prescribed above all else? Love. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your soul, with all your strength, with all your heart." God is love - Deus caritas est. We can only respond to love with love. Since when is the heart content with respect? Love asks only to be loved. That was true under the old law, the law of fear that made Israel tremble. It is even more true under the law of grace. 

"The goodness of God has appeared unto us; He has banished the strong by the strength of His arm." He knows only how to bless. He no longer employs thunder, nor even lightning, to express His majesty. But all that He has lost in majesty, He has gained in love. "My Saviour is little and amiable to excess." Is it to command our respect, extort our admiration? Oh, no, no, it is to win our hearts! That little Child I hold in my arms, I press Him to my heart. What? Do I see you trembling with fear, like a slave, even at Bethlehem? You are, then, of the ancient law.

Our Lord taught us only one prayer - one unique prayer. He did not commence it by saying, "God, all-powerful, infinite Majesty!" No, No. "Our Father," these words contain a whole revelation. At the moment when you say "Our Father," do you tremble, filled with fear and terror? Poor child. You, then, have had a cruel father. You are afraid of your Spouse? You have made a poor alliance? Ah, you have never, then, seen within the heart of your Spouse. You do not know Him. You have never penetrated the secrets of His love.

Our Lord, on the eve of His death, said to His apostles: "I no longer call you servants . . . but My friends." Be to Him, therefore, a friend, a spouse, a tender spouse. Bring to Him the homage of your hearts.

St. Paul cried out to the first Christians: "You have not received the spirit of servitude, but that of adopted children, who cry, Abba, Father." How happy would be the Heart of Jesus if He found among you not a single servant, but only His dear children! Up to now, you may have remained at His feet. For the future rest upon His Heart.

St. Teresa of Avila said, "He who receives Jesus in the Blessed Eucharist through fear and trembling is less welcomed than he who presents himself with confidence and love." How, then, can we pass our lives trembling at the feet of our Lord?

Our Lord wants no convicts in His service. He puts no one into a strait-jacket to force an unwilling compliance. If He asks a sacrifice, it is from a free and generous heart that He desires it to be made. Please, please, take off your strait-jackets and make a fire of love out of them! Our Lord will rejoice.

Do you know what is the distinctive mark of true religion? It is love! False religions betray themselves by jealousy of their rights. They arm themselves with brute force to make their laws obeyed. They seek to inspire fear through threats and chastisements. That is because all false religions come from the demon who said of himself: "I am he who never loves."

"The teaching of religion are nothing if they do not tend to inspire love," said Abbe Perreyve . . .

Some serve God with gloves on, so to speak. They respect Him; they fear Him; but they do not love Him. For this reason they marvel when they see a layman or woman rise from bed in the midst of winter to go to an early Mass. They are amazed. They ask, "Is that necessary in order to be saved?" "No," the layman will reply, "it is not necessary. I do it out of love." Love does not fear to go beyond the precept. Others are even more astonished when they see a young girl leave her family, sacrifice a promising future, and enclose herself within a cloister, to renounce her freedom of action. They cannot understand. "What does it signify?" they inquire. "Are you obliged to make such sacrifices to gain heaven?" they want to know. Ah, they know only the religion of fear, of conscience. Love does not count its gifts. It is never satisfied. Its ardor carries it to excess, to folly . . .

Ozanam was at the point of death. The priest who prayed beside him said, "My son, have confidence. God is good." Ozanam replied, "Why should I fear? I love Him too much."

"Father," you say, "I have misgivings. Is the religion of love really for me? Am I not condemned to remain in Egypt?" Mary Magdalen, at her first meeting with our Lord, was highly culpable. Instead of condemning her to fear, our Lord said, "My daughter, you have offended Me. Give Me your love. You have offended Me greatly, therefore love Me greatly. You have offended Me more than all others: love Me more than all others." Upon St. Peter, for his triple denial, our Lord only imposed a triple protestation of love: "Peter, lovest thou Me? Peter, lovest thou Me? Peter, lovest thou Me more than all the others?"

How cold is respect! The homage of our fears can never respond adequately to the love of our Lord. When shall we give Him, at long last, all of our hearts? At the Last Supper our Lord said to His apostles, "Abide in My love." He was not unknowing of what enormous sins, of what strange ingratitude, they would be guilty, yet He repeated, "Abide in My love." What a magnanimous religion! Come, then, to the Promised Land. Leave the dark fears of Egypt . . .

Away with strait-jackets! We have within us a marvelous resource of incomparable energy - our hearts. It is love that gives impetus to our hearts; the heart and the emotions inspire the activities of the individual. Love is a lever superior to all others. The heart is a fulcrum by which God elevates the world of souls. 

Therese of the Child Jesus said: "I am of such a disposition that fear makes me draw back. With love, I not only advance, I fly."

Love alone can command the heart; then the heart does all the rest. St. Teresa of Avila, toward the close of her life, said, "The more I learn, the more I see that everything should be done through love. I no longer govern with the same rigor as formerly." Had anyone attempted to take this saint by force, he would have wasted his time. She would have resisted. She would have rebelled. "That would have been natural for me," she wrote, "but with the least good will shown me, people can do with me what they will."

St. Augustine said, "Love, then do what you will." What a beautiful device is that of the Canadian Zouaves: "Love God and go on they way," "All for love; nothing by constraint," said St. Teresa of Jesus.

The soul which hopes to attain the summit of love must be, from the beginning, well established in love. Love renders sweet all that it commands; light, all that it endures; precious, all that it touches. All is little without charity; with it all is great . . .

Do I have to insist upon the truth that love makes all things easy? How many times have you not experienced this in your own lives? Something may be naturally repugnant to us. One day, moved by love, desiring to give pleasure to a beloved friend, we see all our repugnances vanish. What appeared impossible before now becomes easy, even welcome. Nothing costs love too dearly when it seeks to give satisfaction to the beloved. Love faces all difficulties with courage.

"When I have succeeded in expanding a heart, I have gained it," said Pere Poulevoye. "On the contrary, the demon constrains, narrows souls. When I have been able to release a heart that he has bound, I have gained that soul. Love is winged."

How is it possible to soar when the soul is compressed within the vise of fear? The capacity to love is the capacity to be happy. He who loves really lives. He who loves knows how to serve. He who loves is happy. "One atom of love placed in a balance against the universe will outweigh it as easily as a tempest carries away a straw," said Lacordaire. Love goes farther than fear. Love opens before us horizons of far distances. Love is limitless; its confines are the infinite. Love never says, "Enough." Love is the friend of "Too much."

"Am I obliged to do this?" Words of the cowardly. Go on dragging yourself in a rut if you must. "Am I obliged?" For myself, I love and I want to show my love. Poor souls, made anemic by a religion of fear, you live feebly, far from the sun of love! Have you never heard these words of your Lord: "Abide in My love?" Not through duty, not through respect, but "in My love." Establish there your dwelling place; raise there your tabernacle.

How many souls there are to whom but one thing is lacking to their perfection: confidence! "What would you do if the good God were to forbid you to love Him?" was once asked of a child. "I would love Him in secret," was the touching reply.

Do you know what is the greatest obstacle to a religion of love? It is our ignorance. We are just not acquainted with the Heart of Jesus. We learn about His majesty, yes; His power, yes; His justice, yes; oh, above all, we learn about His justice. But His love? His Heart? No, we do not know His Heart. 

St Augustine said to God: "Too late have I loved Thee because too late have I come to know Thee." At the tribunal of God where it will be granted us to plunge our vision into the loving Heart of our Lord, what cries of astonishment will arise. "Oh, had I but known!"

A quite general malady is that of discouragement. A severe malady it is, a kind of spiritual anemia, arising from a lack of confidence. God permits us to call Him Father. We are, therefore, His children. Do you think a father would feel flattered to see his children constantly trembling before him? Falsity! 
 Oh how little do you know the Heart of God! St. John reposed upon the breast of Jesus. He penetrated into the secrets of that adorable Heart, and ever thereafter he could only speak of love. He never spoke one word of fear.

The way to reach this fruitful region, vivified by the great Sun of Love, is through devotion to the Heart of Jesus. This devotion is a divine remedy for the coldness of these times. Providentially, devotion to the Heart of Jesus was revealed to the modern world just at the time that the heresy of fear was making such ravages among souls of good will. The Sacred Heart is, par excellence, the devotion of love.

"The Heart of Jesus," said St. Margaret Mary, "is a good Master who will teach you to love with all your heart. The Heart of Jesus is an abyss of confidence and love. Abandon yourself to Him. He will teach you how to make fear give place to love."

Amen!

Draw me, we will run!

And Happy Solemnity from Marcel, Therese, and all of us here at Miss Marcel's Musings!