What do St. John the Evangelist, Servant of God Marcel Van, and Miss Marcel/Suzie Andres all have in common? I shouldn't have given it away in the title of this post, but there it is, we are all Apostles of Love! There's more than that, however, linking us together, and I wonder if you'll be surprised to hear what it is.

What were you doing a year ago yesterday? I know at least one thing I was doing . . .
Perhaps you were reading Miss Marcel's first post at her page of Musings? 
For though time has flown, it turns out to be exactly a year and a day since, on the feast of St. John the Beloved, December 27, 2017, I began writing and posting here, first with "Never Say Never," quickly followed by "Why Miss Marcel?" The next day (that is a year ago today) brought "Quintessential Marcel," and on December 30, 2017, at last that burning question, "Who is Marcel Van?" was answered with joy and gladness and copious photos.

If you weren't here then and haven't had a chance to scroll back that far since, I sure hope you'll enjoy a cup of hot cocoa, coffee, or tea, or a glass of wine or a G & T (or hot toddy if it's cold where you live, though I confess I don't quite know what one is) while you stroll back down memory lane by clicking the bold titles above. 

Funny it didn't occur to me at the time (not that I remember now, at least) that I was beginning to write this blog on the very feast of St. John the Evangelist, Apostle of Love. God must've had it in mind, though, because what feast could be more fitting on which to begin writing about His more recent Apostle of Love, little Marcel Van? In this year since our beginning, I've only become more convinced that Marcel is truly the second Therese, God's inspired messenger of the Little Way, the one sent to bring again, but in an even more convincing format. the good news of the limitless love of the Spouse of our souls. 

In order to do justice to this anniversary, I'd like to transcribe the whole of Marcel's Conversations (with Jesus, Mary, and St. Therese) in this post, but alas, that would take longer than the waning hours of this day, and we'd end up being perhaps two days and two dollars short, instead of just one! I will instead, then, pledge to continue writing and posting from Conversations throughout the coming year (and hopefully years) ahead, and meanwhile give you simply a taste today of one of Jesus and Marcel's chit-chats. In doing so, I rejoice to continue my own apostolate of love. How blessed I am to be able to transcribe Marcel's transcriptions of his conversations with Love Incarnate! Thank You, dear little Jesus, for giving me someone to write about, and thank you, dear little reader, for giving me someone to write about him for!

And now, a snippet of Marcel's Conversations. From this day, 63 years ago, December 28, 1945:

Marcel: Little Jesus, yesterday I heard certain brothers state that they were surprised to encounter many expressions in books which would not be pleasing to You and which, according to them, should not be employed except for men of the world since they indicated a profane love. Have these brethren never recognized You as being their friend? However, I believed that all were Your friends. So, why do they find it strange that one uses words that express a deep intimacy with You? Moreover, I notice that You use these so-called unsuitable expressions all the time in Your dealings with me.

Jesus: My dear little brother, I am covering you unceasingly with kisses and I keep my lips forever pressed against your cheek. Marcel, there is no need for a long speech to reply to your quite natural question. My dear little Marcel, do you know why it is like this? I have already told you that a good number of my spouses do not know what to say to their Spouse and are so ignorant that they do not know that He who is the object of their affection is truly their Spouse. What is even more regrettable is that after having recognized them as my spouses, they, on their part, dare not recognize me as their Spouse, considering that it is madness on my part to act as I do. They also find offensive and intolerable the intimate words which my other spouses address to me . . . Finally, I am adding this: the reason for all this is that these spouses do not have enough humility to understand clearly their dignity as children of God and spouses of Christ, since God is at the same time Father, Spouse, and Master . . .

If all my spouses understood that I am also their Spouse, they would never dare to refuse this dignity of being my spouses; but because they do not wish to humble themselves sufficiently, they never succeed in recognizing the love that I show to them, since this love is without limit . . . So Marcel, the only thing to do in order to recognize my love is to humble oneself. Marcel, say this to souls: 'To see My love it is not necessary to analyze it; it is sufficient to humble oneself.'

Little Marcel, do you love me? How do you love me? Tell me what names you give to me. Oh! Little Marcel, love me. Love me just as I love myself, love me madly and all that you love, love it only through love for me. Marcel, call me your little Spouse; call me the butterfly nestled on the little flower of your soul to breathe in the honey and enjoy its fragrance; call me, again, the aeroplane which takes you away to circle in infinite love . . . Yes, Marcel, give me all these names. 

Now, Marcel, do you want something? Do you want me to give you a kiss? I am going to give you one, all right?

+     +     +

Let's tell little Jesus, Spouse of our souls too, that it is totally all right for Him to give us His kisses! He is waiting to shower us with His limitless love, so on this feast of the Holy Innocents, let's ask Mary our Mother to keep us little in her arms, on her lap with Marcel and Therese, ready for all the kisses Jesus wants to bestow upon us!

And while we're at it, let's invite the whole world to join us! As Jesus explained to Marcel (and as Marcel had learned from the words of his fellow religious), many even of those who love Him don't yet understand the intimacy with which He, the true Spouse of their souls, wants to love them. Let's pray, then, in the words Therese taught us, having borrowed them from God's word in the Song of Songs:

Draw me, we will run!

We love You, little Jesus! Kiss all the Holy Innocents for us today, and may their prayers bring us a renewed innocence and simplicity in Your smiling presence. Thank You for being the Spouse of our souls! And thank You for giving us Marcel, as well as St. John, to remind us of Your limitless love!

*     *     *

Okay, I shouldn't be surprised, not the teensiest tinsiest bit. Because after all, as I said then and I've only become more sure of since, "I AM MARCEL." (Not to frighten you or make you worry for my sanity; just paraphrasing Merle Oberon in Hollywood's Wuthering Heights.) In other words, I am as forgetful as my little brother, and having just looked back at those original posts whose anniversary we're celebrating today, I've discovered that yes, not only was I aware - a year ago yesterday - that I was beginning this blog on St. John's feast day, but I was aware too of the significance, and I called us all (St. John, Marcel, and Miss Marcel) Apostles of Love!

Ah, but what is worth saying, is worth saying twice (and far more often for those of us losing our senses and/or our memories!), so I'm glad to have said it again. And I'm smiling hugely to know that without a doubt I am Miss Marcel in deficit of memory at the very least! May your every other word bring you the limitless humility forced upon me by mine, and may our mutual humility make us the perfect little receptacles for our Spouse's infinitely solicitous, tender and compassionate limitless love! Not to mention His kisses! 

Merry, merry Christmas dear friends, brothers and sisters of Marcel, little Therese, and me! We are so excited to wish you every blessing of this day and this season. May Our tiny Savior bring you His ineffable peace, His deep delight, and His incomprehensible Love! If you look over at catholicchange.com on Christmas morn (sorry no link, but type it in your browser above, or google it), we hope to have a special list there for you - little Jesus' gifts for you, and a beautiful nativity picture too! Meanwhile I will have prayed for you at my Christmas Mass, asking our darling Jesus to enfold you in His compassion, His mercy, His limitless love! May you be near to Our Lady and St. Joseph and - least of all yet Creator of the Stars of night - the King of Kings, born in a stable and resting in a manger just for you! He's waiting for your kisses and waiting to give you His!

For the whole world, we pray on this night of nights, the night of Therese and Marcel's conversions, the night of the conversion of Paul Claudel in Notre Dame Cathedral, and so much more, the night of miracles - 

Draw me, we will run!
We love You little Jesus!!!

Today is one of my favorite feasts of the year, the feast of my favorite Our Lady, the Feast of the incomparably loving Our Lady of Guadalupe, the most beautiful mommy for the very littlest ones, like her little Juanito, pictured receiving her roses - real ones, from Castile, that shouldn't have been found growing on an arid hilltop near Mexico City in December of 1531. In the past (though more recently than 1531!) I've written about Our Lady and Juanito's feast and hers HERE, in an article at Catholic Exchange (that you can magically whoosh to by clicking the HERE), but there's so much to say about her and her special day that I had to write again here: right here, now, at Miss Marcel's Musings!

Where I live, people rise at 4 in the morning to hurriedly dress and go to church so they can sing to Mary and greet her as the dawn breaks. But I should be clearer. Where I live, the Hispanic people, the Mexicans, rise at 4 in the morning today, on this great feast of our patroness and our Mother - and that's just one reason I love them so much! They're so good, so devoted, so completely right about what is beautiful and the Cause of our Joy.

A dear friend and her daughter rose with them a few years ago, only being non-Mexican (though like anyone with any sense, like John Paul II on his first international journey - which was to Mexico in 1979 - they might have said, "I AM Mexican!" through a desire to belong to this people so loved by Our Lady and so loving themselves), they were a little late to the church - Our Lady of Guadalupe parish in our little Hispanic town of Santa Paula in rural southern California. And to be a little late on this day meant that there they were, way earlier than any rational person would get up, wide awake and standing in the chill morning outside the packed church, in the overflow of devotees, unable to even get in for Holy Communion, it was so crammed! 

[Reminiscent of the original shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City: When my beloved B was a bride and went there as part of her honeymoon, her good earthly bridegroom S. had to run interference for her, elbowing and then protecting her as he escorted her to the communion rail to receive the Divine Bridegroom of her soul!]

Let me add that my friends outside our local church enjoyed their experience to the hilt, especially rejoicing that Our Lady should have so many sons and daughters, from babes-in-arms to the old folk, men and women alike, coming to sing Good Morning and offer the Heavenly Father her Son at Mass and receive little Jesus in thanksgiving for His goodness - not least of which He has shown in giving us His Mother for our own.

I remember about 5 and a half years ago being at this same Our Lady of Guadalupe parish for another standing room only event, though in my case it was evening, and it was important that I be actually in the church because I was a confirmation sponsor for my dear Nigerian son. Through a strange set of circumstances, he had not yet been confirmed though he and his family are thoroughly Catholic and great exemplars of the domestic church.

So here we were, enjoying an intensely international experience. It was a Spanish-English Mass, meaning that some parts of the Liturgy of the Word and of the Eucharist were in Spanish, and others in English (no dual translation, simply alternating). And then the congregation was nearly 100% Latino except for us - my son being gorgeously Nigerian, myself looking quite pale by contrast. We felt we added a distinctly international touch to an already quite Catholic event!

And then, when said son graduated from Thomas Aquinas College a year and a half ago and his classmates managed to raise money to bring his parents all the way from Africa for the graduation, oh how lovely was the visit we made to our little hidden Jesus in the church where their son had been confirmed. This time is was the middle of the day and the church was not crowded, but that isn't the same as it being shut up or forsaken. Quite the contrary! As we entered our Mother the Church's welcoming shelter, I spoke quietly to them of the history of the apparition. And as we honored Our Lady and her Divine Son with admiration and love, a steady trickle of visitors came to silently present their petitions, their thanksgivings, their love before God and the Mother we share with Him. Again, we saw men and women of varying ages, though all Hispanic (we were the exception, though I am Mexican-by-desire). What impressed me most deeply were the workers who entered, hats in hand, dressed for labor, clearly in the midst of their workday, but using their hard earned breaks to come to God's house and speak for a moment to Him and His Mama.

Why? Why all this love and devotion, this attention to the Divine, morning, noon, and night?

It makes so much sense if you think about what we need, morning, noon, and night.

My eldest son once worked putting solar panels onto roofs, and his co-workers were mostly Mexican. They were 20- and 30-somethings, and to a man they had excellent lunches packed by their moms. They would laugh and tease him about my negligence as he took out his lame looking self-made sandwich. What can I say? I may want to be Mexican, but what everyone needs is a REAL Mexican mother, and the beauty of this feast is that God, the giver of all good gifts, makes sure everyone has one.

For this is the day, December 12, that Our Lady appeared to the poor and worried Juan Diego who was, at the very moment he ran into her, trying to avoid her. He needed to fetch a priest for his dying uncle, so despite his appointment with Our Lady, he skirted the hill on which she'd appeared to him on the previous days and went the other way 'round! But ah, it isn't so easy to avoid a loving and concerned mother, especially if she's from Heaven (as I suppose all loving and concerned mothers are)!

I wish I could tell you everything that happened to Juan in its fullest detail - it's all stunningly beautiful, from his and his wife's conversion, to his faithful life after she died, to the Saturday morning (December 9, 1531) that found him on the road to his catechism class but stopped by singing that sounded like a chorus of birds on the top of Tepayac hill. And even at this mysterious music (it must have sounded heavenly) Juan's humility marveled, and he said:

"By any chance am I worthy, have I deserved what I hear? Perhaps I am only dreaming it? Perhaps I am only dozing? Where am I? Where do I find myself? Is it possible that I'm in the place our ancient ancestors, our grandparents, told us about: in the land of the flowers, in the land of corn, of our flesh, of our sustenance, perhaps in the land of heaven?"

Yes, Juan! You are in the land of flowers and corn, of our flesh, our sustenance, even the land of heaven, for listen! The singing has suddenly stopped, and a woman is calling out to you:

"Juanito! Juan Diegito!"

I wish I could convey to you the tenderness of these words. I grew up with Lebanese aunts and uncles and a dear Lebanese Gido (pronounced with a soft "g" like in gendarmes, if you know how to pronounce that!), and the love that poured from their hearts to me needed to find outlets in the sweetest endearing phrases and expressions. Just to take one example, my Gido wouldn't say something as cold as "You are in my heart." No, it had to be "You are my heart."

Not surprisingly, these relatives of mine were people who used diminutives like Our Lady did. It helped that some of them came to California via Venezuela, where they lived and worked and picked up perfect Spanish along with even more affectionate ways. Which means that my cousin Tony, named after his dad (my Uncle Tony, God rest his hilarious soul), was always called (and remains to me forever) "Tonito," that is, "little Tony," though he's now rather a grown-up, and in fact has been for all the decades I've known him.

My husband and I love Bollywood movies, and you see the same sweet devotion at play in the Indian culture - those who are younger (though they may be well into their 30's, for instance) addressing any woman of the older generation as "Auntie." I love this! One of my favorite names is "Aunt Suzie," and it thrilled me to no end when the friends of my nieces and nephews in Virginia would call me this sweet name. My older son would even call to me, when we were in a crowd or I was engaged in converstaion and wasn't hearing or responding to him, "Aunt Suzie!" We still laugh at how immediately I always responded!

But here, among the Hispanics, the so loving Mexicans, this affection is taken to its most wonderful and utmost extreme. The older generation speaks to the younger (again, the younger not having to be very young, only younger than the elder!) almost always with the affection of a doting parent. The common cry is "Mijo!' or "Mija!" - contractions of "Mi hijo," and "Mi hija" - that is, "My son," and "My daughter." I can meet an older Mexican woman and within minutes she might refer to me as "Mija," (my daughter) as she explains something to me. Oh my loving God - how did you pour such immeasurable goodness and kindness into the hearts of these wonderful people? 

It began with the appearance of His Mother and the endearing call,

"Juanito! Juan Diegito!"

And then?

As I said, I wish I could tell you every detail of these glorious and so affectionate apparitions, but I must be a good Mexican mama and prepare things for the aforementioned eldest son who is beginning his Advent/Christmas visit with us in only a few hours. Since, though, I'm only a Mexican mama by desire, not by blood, I think I can afford (or I will steal, anyhow) enough time to give you the highlights. 

The most light of all comes to me through the words Our Lady spoke to Juan when she intercepted him on the other side of the hill, the anniversary of which we celebrate today (as also we celebrate the miracles of the roses and the tilma).

But first (and too often forgotten, at least by me) are the words she spoke to Juan - and indeed to us all - at their initial meeting, words of introduction (who she was) and explanation (why she had called him). These words are marvelous because they invite us, each and every one of her children, to find a mother in Our Lady at Guadalupe and signs of her maternal aid in the events and signs of affection which brought conversion to a people lost in sin (serious sin - human sacrifice type sin). Who better to bring His love and light than the one who first brought them - brought Him - to birth at Christmas?

And so, on December 9, the first day of the Octave of her Immaculate Conception, Our Lady spoke to the humble Mexican Indian, Juan Diego (and to us through him), saying:

"Be it known and understood by you, the smallest of my children, that I am ever Virgin Holy Mary, Mother of the true God from whom all life has come, of the Creator, close to whom is everything, the Lord of heaven and earth. I ardently desire that a temple be built for me here, where I can show and offer all my love, compassion, help and protection, for I am your merciful mother. Here I wish to hear and help you, and all those who dwell in this land and all those others who love me, and invoke and place their confidence in me; and to hear your complaints and remedy all your sorrows, hardships, and suffering.

"And in order to carry out what my mercy seeks, you must go to the bishop's palace in Mexico and tell him that I sent you to make it clear how very much I desire that he build a temple for me here on this place; you shall tell him exactly all you have seen and marveled at, and what you have heard."

Juan Diego did go to the Bishop, who asked him, as all good Bishops do, for a sign from the beautiful lady. And she, as she always does in such situations, gave a sign miraculous enough to knock the very clerical socks off the Bish and let him know without doubt who she was - the Lady from Heaven.

In Juan's case, she gave - on the morning of this day, December 12, when she interrupted his errand to get the priest to give last rites to his uncle (what did his uncle need with the last Sacraments? She appeared to him too, at this hour, and by God's grace healed him) - four miracles.

1. The healing of his uncle.

2. Castilian roses growing on the hill behind her - these she had Juan take to the Bishop after she arranged them in his tilma, the cloak which he swung around to the front and held like an apron for her to fill. The Bishop was from Castile, Spain, and missed the splendid beauty of roses such as these in his far off mission, his so far very unsuccessful mission . . . and he had been praying a novena to Our Lady just at this time, a plea for her help to convert this seemingly God-forsaken country where superstition reigned and human sacrifice was a horrific commonplace reality.

3. Her image - an indelible, incorruptible portrait of her as she appeared to Juanito, but printed on his tilma in perpetuity. When Juan came before the Bishop and dropped the roses at His Excellency's feet, the Bishop and his aides dropped to their knees in awe. Not at the miraculous roses, but at the miraculous image or their Mother, whom they now knew had certainly appeared to this poor Juan Diego.

And fourth? That day her fourth miracle, and my favorite, consisted in her words of love. For here is what she told Juan when he confessed, with apologies for avoiding her but a candid outpouring of his tender heart, his errand for his uncle. She poured out her heart in return, and these words miraculously survive to this day 5 centuries later, just like her face full of maternal tenderness survives on the tilma in the Basilica in Mexico City:

Hear and let it penetrate your heart, my dear little one:
Let nothing discourage you, nothing depress you. 
Let nothing alter your heart or your countenance.
Am I not here who am your Mother?
Are you not under my shadow and protection?
Am I not your fountain of life?
Are you not in the folds of my mantle?
In the crossing of my arms?
Is there anything else that you need?
Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain.

*     *     *

She says these words to us today, and every day.
I love these words because they showing us her true face, just as much as the image on the tilma does.

Interestingly, Juan Diego was honored as a saint from the time of his death, which occurred the same year as the good Bishop's, in 1548 (4 years after Juan's uncle died in 1544 and 17 years after Our Lady had appeared to Juan and healed his uncle), but it was not until 450 years after the apparitions that the process of Juan's canonization was officially opened by Pope John Paul II in 1981.

The Church conducted an intense historical examination of Juan's life and  testimonies about him and found devotion and recognition of his sanctity dating back to the 16th century (in other words, from the time of his death). This "immemorial cultus" meant that the requirements for beatification were fulfilled without a miracle, and so Juan Diego was beatified in 1990.

Without a miracle? This is Juanito, little Juan Diegito we're talking about! You can bet Heaven wasn't going to leave the situation sub-miraculous for long! 

As it happens, in every cause for canonization (following upon beatification), a miracle is required, no matter if the Blessed is a martyr, or has for any other reason been beatified without the typically requisite miracle. And this miracle must occur after the Beatification in order to show that God desires a universal recognition of this blessed one we now know is with Him in Heaven. The beatification tells us the person is now with God, but the canonization presents the Saint for the whole world to love, admire, and imitate (to the extent that imitation is possible), and before elevating someone to this higher level, the Church demands an up-to-the-minute report from Heaven to be sure God really wants this universal recognition of the Saint-to-be.

What about Juanito, then? 442 years after his entrance to eternal life, what was God thinking? He let us know in no uncertain terms. He who could not resist His mother's news, "They have no wine," reacted in just the same filial manner to her news that Juan had no miracle . . . 

On the same day Juan Diego was beatified, the miracle needed for his canonization occurred. This was a wonderful repeat performance of God's love and mercy (and desire to draw our attention to one of His favorites) on the occasion of our sister Therese's beatification. That day 30 miracles occurred through her intercession, miracles soon after reported to the Lisieux Carmel in petition for her canonization!

In Juan's case, a 19-year-old Mexican named Juan Jose had been suffering from severe depression and on May 3, 1990, wanting to commit suicide he threw himself off the balcony of his apartment, his head hitting the concrete pavement 30 feet below. His mother had been frantically trying to hold him back and prevent him from jumping while she cried out to Juan Diego for help, but her own Juan managed to tear himself away and hurl himself to apparent death.

He was rushed to a hospital nearby and the doctor told his mother to pray to God, since Juan Jose was in serious condition (to say the least!). She replied she'd already been praying for Juan Diego's intercession. The physicians found a basal fracture of the skull which should have killed Juan Jose at the moment of impact, and certainly now prevented (for them) any hope of his survival or recovery. Thus on May 6, the day of Juan Diego's beatification, poor Juan Jose's injuries having been authentically identified as terminal, all extraordinary medical support was withdrawn.

And then, on this propitious day, Juan Jose sat up, began eating, and over the next 10 days proceeded to recover completely. Not only was he well, he was entirely well, without even a headache! X-rays showed no sign of any fracture: the bone was mended, the arteries and veins in their proper places. There were more tests, second and third opinions, etc. but without question it was a miracle.

Which meant that, given the careful attention of our Holy Mother, the Church in matters of this kind, it was still another 12 years before Juan Diego was canonized, but on July 31, 2002, Pope John Paul II called him St. Juan Diego and sanctioned us to do the same.

Is the story over?
Of course not!
Because miracles don't die, and we need more of them every day. Our Lady said to little Marcel in almost an echo of her words to St. Juan Diego (ah, you knew our brother would show up here before the "happily ever after," didn't you?), words that she's brought to my attention frequently in these days of her delightful Advent feasts:

"My dear little one. You have just been looking at me. It is not surprising therefore that I hasten to ask you this question. It is something really astounding. My child, by a simple glance you have drawn to yourself my compassionate gaze. So what do you want? Are you very troubled? That is very unfortunate, my child. I am very sorry for you. Today, the recreation day, when you should be relaxing, all you do is worry yourself. It is very painful. But my child, why trouble yourself in this way? . . . My dear child, remain in peace, all right? Little Jesus has not scolded you; neither have I. Our sole intention, both of us, is to get rid of your troubles. Do not worry, I love you dearly. See, I have more pity for you than for little Jesus. In that case, it is He who should be sad; but you, what reason have you to be sad? Come, my child, I am kissing you, I am giving you twice as many as I am giving little Jesus, nevertheless, little Jesus is very happy with that." (Conversations, 426)

With such a loving mother, with our job being only to be kissed by her, cared for by her, living in her shadow and protection, in the folds of her mantle, in the crossing of her arms, her little mijas and mijos, what have we to fear? Let's kiss her back, and in our poverty simply gaze at her face, she who left us such a wonderful picture on which to rest our tired eyes. Quietly, lest we wake little Jesus sleeping in her arms beside us, let us whisper:

Draw me, we will run!

Whatever is troubling you, pour out your heart to Mary and be sure Our Lady of Guadalupe will be there for you as she has promised. As she says, it is something really astounding, but by a simple glance we draw to ourselves her compassionate gaze.

I remember another cousin's daughter when she was about 3, so darling with her half Spanish, half English, repeating to me over and over "Mira! Look! Mira! Look!" Out of the mouths of babes . . . and so I say to you, before the image of our beautiful Mother, "MIra, mija! Mira, mijo!" May her compassionate gaze bring you His peace and joy! Since you have Mary as your real Mother, you need never disconcert yourself. Or as we like to say in the words of her Divine Son, "No more worrying, anymore, ever!" 

It's that time of year - sales everywhere, shops (online and in 3-D) luring us in to BOGO - buy one, get one free. But the Saints have a better plan they've asked me to share with you, so here we are with our new BNGTF, which I don't think will catch on, because it's so dang hard to pronounce acronyms without any vowels!

Nonetheless, I need to tell you what's happened today to let us know that Heaven is very interested in our every move. Not interested in us in a suspicious and judgmental way, but rather in a loving and laughing way - the Little Way, we like to call it!

I think I've confessed that I recently accidentally bought out amazon's ready supply of Marcel's Conversations (my absolute fave of his books, and to say the whole truth at once, my absolute fave book ever after the Bible). I didn't mean to; it isn't like I bought 30 copies, or even 3 (okay, so I did buy 3, but one was over at barnesandnoble.com) - one for a Miss Marcel with a large house and only 1 tattered copy of The Book, another for a Redemptorist priest I thought would like to meet his little brother, and the third for, well, for me because although my house isn't that large, my copy was getting so chock-full of bookmarks that I could hardly read the words hiding behind them, yet try as I might, it was too painful to remove them all (again) and lose my places . . . 

So when my new copy arrived soon after I ordered it, I was shocked to find - first time ever - some sort of red nail polish like goo on the bottom of the book. Shocked and very pleased, I should add, for it offered me the chance to call amazon (they have THE nicest customer service people in Manila!) and explain I needed them to send me another copy for free. They agreed they should, and offered to send a return envelope for the red-spotted copy they'd sent already. I mentioned that I'd prefer to keep it, if it was all the same to them, since they'd simply throw out my favorite book, and that would be too sad. They agreed with this idea too. As I said, they are very nice in Manila.

Next thing I knew, nothing happened.

Which isn't entirely true because on my end, stateside, I carefully cut off the very bottom of the pages where the red goo was, and suddenly had a perfectly readable (if slightly marred, but not even very visibly) 2nd copy of Convos (not counting my husband's, naturally).

But my third copy, the BOGO copy, was not arriving, and sure enough on amazon it looked like they were entirely depleted of copies. Hmmmm.

Another call to Manila, and I opted for a refund. So it was now BNGO - that is, buy none, get one free. That worked for me! I had delighted in Marcel doubling my purchase, as if to say, "You've left every other book to follow me, the least I can do is give you two-fold in this life, and little Jesus will reward you 100-fold in the next." But sadly, it seemed he was keeping an eye on my finances and decided I needed the money more than the second (or rather third) copy. So the money (for the copy that arrived spotted) was refunded, and that was that.

Or so I thought.
But Marcel is an imp! He had more mischief up his soutane's sleeve than I knew!
For what came in the mail today?
The replacement copy of Conversations!
What?!
Well clearly, Heaven had in mind their famous Advent sale on grace, Saints, inspiration, and the like:
BNGTF!
(Buy none, get two free! Though I tell you, we've got to come up with a clearer acronym.)

You can see, then, why Marcel had to be up top today, with his backpack that he's relieved to report is feeling lighter, now that he's handed over 2 books to me. Kind of a St. Nicholas moment, really.

But why is St. Anthony up there too?
Well this is Heaven we're talking about, and they don't do things by halves, but by doubles.
So it wasn't just my new Conversations that came in the mail today, courtesy of Marcel.
MY DRIVER"S LICENSE came too, courtesy of St. Anthony!
ANTO!!!!!!!!!

And just in time, because apparently St. Anthony has quickly become accustomed to top billing here, and wants more of the action. So much so that he - picking up on Marcel's tricks - pulled a fast one on me this past Saturday . . .

For Saturday, Feast of Our Lady's Immaculate Conception, having stayed up way too late and gotten up way too early, I found myself in a church hall about an hour from us, ready to teach a class on Therese's letters to my dear brother and sister Carmelites, except that as we were about to begin, as if I were still in an anxiety dream, I couldn't find my page of notes (for teaching the class). Copies of our sister's Letters? Check. Picture of her smiling out at the class? Check. Homework for the next two months? Check. Copies of the prayer we'd all say to begin class? Check. Paper without which I'd be lost? Missing.

I couldn't believe that after staying up so late packing the car with every possible item I'd need (Christmas cards? Check. Dessert for the potluck? Check. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera), I'd forgotten the one item I really absolutely needed! I said a quick "ANTO" in my head. I turned to my husband and asked for a prayer. I turned the other direction and asked my friend CH for the same. She said, "Have YOU prayed?" "Yes," I replied, "I called out to St. Anthony, but," (and here I imagine I became rather muddled sounding because I don't think CH had seen our recent St. Anthony post that was so quickly bumped by our Prayer for France post), "maybe he wants to be bumped back up to the top again!"

And no sooner did I suggest such a thing, then I found the paper right in front of me.

I think St. Anthony has more than his picture for us (and note how he and little Jesus are no longer arguing! As soon as St. Anthony gave in and little Jesus got His way, all was harmony between them again). I think, more importantly, he's saying, "Look, I have nothing against these new kids on the block. Therese, Marcel, they're sweethearts and they belong in your life. But that doesn't mean I'm going away, and a little face time now and then would be much appreciated. There are a LOT of people with lost items out there, and you need to remind them I'm here for them, 24/7!"

And then my DL arrived today, and clearly it's another BNGTF special. Okay, so I had to offer various bribes to St. Anto to get the license back, and the same final gift (a special guest appearance here at Miss Marcel's Musings) got my class outline back to me as well . . . So he could be trying to tell us, "If you want to find your lost items, start a blog and prominently feature St. Anthony and little Jesus in a place of honor!" but I think St. Anthony's urgent message is not merely that.

I'm pretty sure he wanted to assure me that this wasn't, actually, about him. 
He simply wants us to know that the Saints all love us like crazy, they're willing to help us out day or night, Friday, Saturday, Monday (probably Sundays too, and so on), and we should never doubt their compassion and kindness - which is only the smallest glimmer of the Limitless Love and Infinite Solicitude of the Blessed and Adorable Trinity for us!

We need this message, this moral, this lesson, this promise, again and again and again!
More like BNGIF - buy none, get infinity free, or perhaps BNGEF would be more true: Buy none, get eternity free.

Meanwhile, the mail also contained a lovely card with Marcel's dear brother Redemptorist St. Gerard on the front, and the message inside: "Thank you very much for the book. I'm enjoying getting to know little Brother Marcel Van, CSsR."

Hooray! Marcel is conquering another heart for little Jesus - well, a heart that already has long belonged to our Spouse, but still, there's always room for more love and another BFF (that's Best Friend Forever, but I bet you knew that without my telling you)!

So thank you St. Anthony, thank you Marcel, thank you dear Therese for all your unbounded affection and lovely roses. Including amazon having plenty of Conversations back in stock, in case any one needs a second or third copy for Christmas (and if it's a first, or a gift, even better)! As to little Jesus, let's pray that we can cash in on His goodness if not by free books (I'm afraid they're likely to cost again) but best of all by bringing - for fun and for FREE - every single soul in the world into His Kingdom of Love this Advent and Christmas! It's as easy as saying our closing prayer:

Draw me, we will run!

I had originally titled this post "Totus Tuus," but it was feeling a bit high falutin' to start things off in Latin after our recent forays into French. And simply, this is a short, happy post to say:

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!

We're in! It's consecration day, and what love we will experience from now onward in the arms of Our Lady, under her mantle, close to little Jesus and His dear ones Therese and Marcel! 

You can see in the portrait above that Mary's holding a bunch of grapes. And do you notice how Jesus looks ready to pluck them? Wait, how can she be holding grapes when she's supposed to be holding us? Well, there's only one way I can see: Those grapes are us! And as to that darling little Jesus, I can only add: May He pluck us soon! 

I hope I sound very clever, but once again (really it's what I do, day in and day out), I'm just stealing good copy from Therese (and/or Marcel, the second Therese, but in this case, from the original).

Because as it happened, our sister had a word or two to say about grapes - just about the best words ever and one more reason I love her.

Her own older sister Pauline (Mother Agnes, who must then be our older sister too, since the sister of our sister . . .) wrote down everything Therese said during her last days on earth. And one day, Pauline tells us in Last Conversations, after our little sister had offered a cluster of grapes to the Infant Jesus, she (Therese) said:

"I offered Him these grapes to give Him the desire to take me, for I believe I'm this type."

Pauline continues: "The skin wasn't hard and it was very golden; tasting one grape, she said: Yes, this is my type!"

Ah, thin skinned, a beautiful color, and so tasty - that would be us, little Master and Miss Marcels!

Purple grapes or golden, in suffering and in joy, we're all Mary's now, and she has no other plan than to offer us to little Jesus. Her hand holds us up, His rests upon us from above, and need I say it?

No more worrying about anything, any more, ever! She's got us, He's got us, and we can trust them to never let us down.

We hardly need to pray, we're so closely embraced by Mother and Son, but let's do it anyhow, in thanksgiving, in petition, in utter abandonment of ourselves and all we are, all we have, all we have done and will do, and all those we love (which on a day of such superlative Love and Grace is absolutely everyone!) :

Draw me, we will run!

And for France today and ever after:

      Lord Jesus, have compassion on France.
                                     Graciously hold it tightly in your love and show it much tenderness.
                                     So ordain things that, full of love for you, it contributes to make you loved
                                     in all the nations on earth.
                                     O Love of Jesus, we now promise to remain always faithful to you
                                     and to work with a heart on fire to spread your reign throughout the universe.
                                                                                                                                           Amen.

If you want to pray our prayer in French, as Jesus asked Marcel to do (with Fr. Boucher's help), just scroll down to the prayer card that tops the next post. But if you're too tired, just ask Mary to say it for you - I'm sure her French is better, no matter how good yours is!

Happy consecration, Happy Immaculate Conception, and Happy feasting!
with tons of love from Miss Marcel, St. Therese, and Marcel.
​Because the views here do reflect those of the management (we hope!)!!

I hate to pre-empt St. Anthony so quickly, but his 15 minutes of fame are up!

Nah, just kidding - his fame far exceeds whatever reach the top post on my blog can muster, and I know he's glad to go lower (it's the Little Way, after all) in service of the Common Good.

I just received an email from our friend Jack Keogan. He's the translator of Marcel's writings into English (I know, I can see your eyes widening, your eyebrows shooting up, your mouth falling open, and a sigh of love and gratitude - which sounds like a gasp - escaping!), and he's much closer geographically to France, as well as mentally and spiritually (not to mention emotionally), since he actually knows French! (Thank Heaven, since that's the language from which he translated Marcel's words.)

Enough introducing, though. The point is that Jack received a prayer request from Les Amis de Van, and he passed it along to lovers of Marcel including myself, and so I'm passing it along in my turn to lovers of Marcel including you!

I'll give you Jack's message as it came to me, containing as it does the request from Les Amis de Van. If you read over the French on the holy card pictured above (I admit, I didn't take the time, since I saw the English prayer first, but I promise that soon I'll say the prayer in French too), then you've already prayed for France once, and in the very words Jesus gave to Marcel for this purpose. As you read Jack's message below, you'll be able to say the prayer (again), this time in English with me. Here is the message:

From Jack Keogan

Dear Friends,

I have just received this communication from Les Amis de Van, which I am summarizing here, enlisting our prayers for France and the French people at this time when political turmoil, as evidenced by the violent demonstrations of last week-end and which are scheduled to be repeated tomorrow, the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Our Lady, are bringing, fear, turmoil and distress to the country for which Our Lord demonstrated to Brother Marcel his special love.

On the 14th of November, 1945, Our Lord dictated to Brother Marcel the following prayer, saying:

I want the French people to say this prayer to Me:                       

                                     Lord Jesus, have compassion on France.
                                     Graciously hold it tightly in your love and show it much tenderness.
                                     So ordain things that, full of love for you, it contributes to make you loved
                                     in all the nations on earth.
                                     O Love of Jesus, we now promise to remain always faithful to you
                                     and to work with a heart on fire to spread your reign throughout the universe.
                                                                                          Amen.

Jack continues:

I hope you can find time, tomorrow on the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Our Lady, to say this prayer for France, the eldest daughter of the Church. The relevant passage can be found in Conversations (110).

En union de priere, as our French brothers and sisters say.

Jack

*       *       *

And back to me, Miss Marcel:

Here below is the prayer again in French, which is how Jesus asked Marcel to say it after calling our brother, "Little child of my love." He told Marcel that his director (Fr. Boucher) would teach him how to say it in French. Well, I don't want to ask for an apparition or locution, so if you're with me in not knowing how to speak French, just give it your best shot (I advise a nasal intonation; think croissant), and in these times of trial we will at least make Jesus and the French Saints (and French Canadian Saints) laugh!

In case you CAN read or speak French, here's the message from Les Amis de Van:

Chers Amis de Van,
En ces temps tourmentés pour notre pays, nous devons plus que jamais compter sur la force de la prière.  Voici la prière que Jésus a donnée à Marcel Van en lui demandant que les Français la récitent.

[Here there is a photo of the prayer card with Marcel on one side & the prayer in French on the other]

Vous pouvez commander gratuitement des images de la prière pour la France en contactant l'association Les Amis de Van ([email protected]).
 
Tournons-nous également vers Marie pour lui confier notre pays. Tout particulièrement le jour de la fête de l'Immaculée Conception où de violents affrontements sont prévus dans différentes villes en France.

En très grande union de prière,
Les Amis de Van

My helpful google translating elf renders their message in English as follows:

Dear friends of Van, 
In these troubled times for our country, we must rely more than ever on the strength of prayer. 
Here is the prayer that Jesus gave to Marcel Van asking that the French recite it . . . 
​
                                     Lord Jesus, have compassion on France.
                                     Graciously hold it tightly in your love and show it much tenderness.
                                     So ordain things that, full of love for you, it contributes to make you loved
                                     in all the nations on earth.
                                     O Love of Jesus, we now promise to remain always faithful to you
                                     and to work with a heart on fire to spread your reign throughout the universe.
                                                                                          Amen.

You can order free images of prayer for France by contacting Les Amis de Van ([email protected]).
 
Let us also turn to Mary to entrust her with our country. Especially on the day of the feast of the Immaculate Conception where violent clashes are planned in different cities in France. 

In very great union of prayer,
Van's Friends 

There! Now we've managed to say Jesus' prayer for France three times at least! And while Jesus asked the French people in particular to say it, I know speaking for myself I do have some French blood in me . . . but even if you don't, I'm sure Jesus would be happy to have you put yourself in the place of any French man or woman who isn't blessed enough yet to have heard of our brother Marcel, let alone this prayer for his or her beautiful and dear country, the Eldest Daughter of the Church.

I do hope you'll keep scrolling down to read about St. Anthony's miracles in the post below this one. I find nothing more encouraging for us in our prayer than the memory of miracles! St. Anthony, please join us in praying for France! And darling Jesus:

Draw me, we will run!
or since You are asking for French today, we'll say (in a new translation) -
Dessine-moi, nous allons courir!

May God bless France, and thank you Les Amis and dear Jack, Marcel and little Jesus, for your invitation to pray.

How can I fear a God who is nothing but mercy and love?"

These are the words of our sister St. Therese, and you can see St. Anthony must have believed in their truth, even if he lived half a dozen centuries before she said them. Look at how open and Marcel-like he is in his conversation with Little Jesus in the photo above. (We know Therese's dear sister Celine was an excellent photographer, but Murillo is right up there with her.) St. Anthony seems to be, on this occasion, arguing vociferously with our adorable Lord and Savior, and I happen to know what they're arguing about . . .

I'm pretty sure you can't guess since it concerns something fairly mundane, and yet oh so important to me. It's my driver's license. I don't remember if I've told you yet, but I left it in Los Angeles at the federal courthouse two days before Thanksgiving. No, I haven't committed a felony! I was accompanying my husband to his federal jury duty; we took the early commuter train (in fact I remember writing to you about that, if I'm not mistaken), my esteemed and lucky husband didn't get chosen for a jury, we took Amtrak home, and somewhere in the midst of all that (precisely when we went through security at the courthouse, which made airport security look lax at LAX), I left my driver's license behind.

For those with eyes to see and ears to hear, two things happened next. First, I contacted the courthouse (while we were whizzing away from it at top speed, but oh my goodness, modern technology is amazing even if my latest incarnation of it is in a flip phone) and they confirmed that my license was safely in the hands of the U.S. Marshalls who manned security. Then actually not second but really very first (and with two firsts, that still makes two things that happened, however poorly expressed), I contacted St. Anthony (no flip phone required).

St. Anthony is my go-to man. 

When I was a girl and heading toward confirmation, I read a book about him that told of the statue of baby Jesus coming to life in Mary's arms and leaning down to hug St. Anthony. Wow. I now knew what to pray for in church, and fairly quickly I decided he would be my confirmation saint.

My best bud Julia's mom (Julia being my best bud, and then her mom being not only her mom but a wonderful friend to me too, in an extra mom sort of way) smilingly explained that wouldn't be necessary since my middle name was already Antoinette, which is the girl's form of Anthony, hence he already was my patron and I could choose another. Good thing, since my second choice, St. Thomas Aquinas, though seemingly ignoring me for the next four years, was biding his time until he sprung my future upon me: this tiny college named after himself, and all it had to offer (the Faith, galaxies of Saints, my future husband, lots of heroes and friends, and oh, yeah, a Catholic liberal education just to round out the experience).

Don't worry, though, St. Anthony didn't mind. He and St. Thomas were in cahoots, and while the Dumb Ox usually gets credit for helping me "find" his college (and thus my faith, my future, my husband, my vocation, my mission, etc.), we all know that behind any good finding is the Saint of lost things, "il Santo," the one fought over by the Portuguese and the Italians like Fulton Sheen is now by the Peorians and the New Yorkers (and my goodness that restores my faith and hope in present-day Catholicism - when you've got people fighting over the bodies of the Saints, you know you're right smack in the middle of the authentic lunacy of the Faith!).

Once in college, my devotion to my middle-name-Saint didn't cool, but gained heat and light when I began depending on him more in a personal way. I discovered he always comes through, whether it's with finding a lost notebook needed for class and exams, or finding the right husband so his client can go on to have children to name in honor of them both. The husband and il Santo, I mean.

For yes, it happened. I met and married a man named Anthony, and our two sons have Anthony in their names. We'd hoped for daughters too, and we would've found a way to include our good Saint's name in theirs as well (Antoinette again? Antonia perhaps?), but God's plan didn't include our naming any daughters, so here we are, 3 Anthonys and an Antoinette.

Thanks to our other son, the Nigerian one, we call upon our patron with gusto whenever anything is lost. It used to be a rhyme (from my childhood, thanks to Julia's mom; from my husband's ,thanks to his Sicilian mom - whose birthday was yesterday, so please say an Ave for her intentions and in thanksgiving to God for creating her and making her so lovely in every way!) that goes like this:

Dear St. Anthony, please come around.
There's something lost that must be found.

Which worked fine for years and years, but Africa has so much to give us, and the Nigerian Guild of St. Anthony in particular has given me in particular 3 priceless treasures to date (not to mention the countless lost items its wonderful battle cry has helped me recover):

1. First and foremost, its given me said 3rd son. I can only surmise that prayers to St. Anthony, and thus St. Anthony himself, had a role in giving their firstborn to the Nigerian royalty who are my third son's parents (at least that's how I think of them, as royalty, and if you'd met them when I did, you'd think so too, their grace, attire, dignity, goodness, and the paparazzi that surrounded them on their American tour, testifying to their royal blood).

2. The St. Anthony Guild, thanks to my third son's parents, has also shown me that if we want to honor the Saints, we ought to follow the Nigerian custom of printing their images on our material - not just our reading material, but our clothing! I wish I could show you the beautiful cloth the royal family gave me, knowing as they did how much I love our mutual benefactor. Truly a gift from heaven, it's reminiscent of Giotto's cycles of the life of St. Francis in the Basilica in Assisi, and St. Anthony in Padua, for on a rich brown background around a central image of St. Anthony and the Christ Child, the brilliant Nigerian devotees have printed a series of medallions illustrating the life and miracles of il Santo. Gorgeous! 

3. And finally, for use on a nearly daily basis, the Nigerian Guild of St. Anthony has taught me a prayer that's become our family's mantra. 

Did you ever play "Marco Polo"? Children play it (in the U.S. at least) in swimming pools. A group of kids are in the pool; one child  is "it" and closes his eyes (works best if all the children can swim!), while the others take up various places in the water at varying distances from their friend. He calls out "Marco!" and the others reply "Polo!" Following the sounds of their voices, he has to swim over and touch one of them, who then becomes "it." Explaining the rules now, it sounds like a game of torture (at least if I were "it"!) but I remember it being a lot of fun, especially calling back and forth to each other at the top of our lungs.

Leave it to the Nigerians to find a much better way to play! No water, no need to swim or sputter, no closed eyes, and you only need two to play. Here's how it works: 

I lose something (that's the easy part!), I call out at the top of my lungs, "ANTO!" (that's the fun part) and you, somewhere in calling distance, perhaps across the house, but I've even done it texting (if you, or the other party, happen to be across the country), reply in kind, "PADUA!" (that's the thrilling part).

Need I mention that meanwhile I'm looking - and if you're in the vicinity, you might join me - for the lost item? This does make it more like the children's game for, even without water, I do often feel like my eyes are shut (though they're wide open) and I'm "it," looking to find and touch what's hidden from me.

The conclusion of this great Nigerian St. Anthony game is that when I find the lost item, I call out again, even more loudly if possible, "ANTO!" in joy and relief, and you respond, "PADUA!" to express your wonder and gratitude along with mine. It's just the best! Everyone wreathed in smiles, and feeling straight out of the Gospel - I'm the woman who's found the lost coin, and you're the one I host to a party. 

(Incidentally, I always love trying to figure out if this woman-in-the-Gospel used the whole coin to pay for the party celebrated in honor of finding it, and if that's as funny as I think it is. Writing about it now, I see that it doesn't matter because the real joy is in God's mercy and love - He gave us the coin to start with, He helps us find it when we've lost it, and He's the one we thank in our festivals of gratitude, whether they involve fattened calves, an excursion to The Cheesecake Factory, or simply a joyous shout in praise of His goodness shining forth in the kindness of His Saints.)

Singing out, crying out, desperately shouting out, or joyously exclaiming St. Anthony's name is only half my usual protocol, though. Well yes, half because I depend on someone else to sing, cry, shout, or exclaim in reply, but also half because of St. Anthony's Bread.

Because the other custom I love, love, love, is called St. Anthony's Bread, and here's what my handy (as in, at hand right now) St. Anthony of Padua prayer book(let) from the Companions of St. Anthony says about it:

"Popular devotion to St. Anthony of Padua over hundreds of years has identified him as the patron saint for finding lost or stolen articles. Even more importantly, he is the saint who finds lost souls. In Europe, people have prayed to St. Anthony as the 'Holy Matchmaker.' Others have considered him the patron saint of those who travel the seas. Because of his great love for the poor, the tradition arose of assisting the needy with 'St. Anthony's Bread,' a donation given to a charity in thanksgiving for favors requested or received through St. Anthony's intercession."

Yep, exactly. And in fact that's why I'm writing about him here today. You see, since I lost my driver's license two weeks ago, I've been promising all sorts of things to St. Anthony. I usually start out promising I'll give them when he finds my missing item, but almost immediately I realize how terribly stingy of me that is, so I tell him, "Okay, I'll give what I've promised now, and then you find x." I suppose he and I both know I'm likely to forget my promise, and then, too, I don't want it to look like I'm only good for what I can get (though it is a marvelous exchange, as they say).

And so in this matter of my driver's license (my loss of it and my hope for Anto's finding it and, moreover, returning it to me PROMPTLY PLEASE?!?!?!), I have so far promised and given a number of things. Naturally, Marcel-like on my part, I've forgotten exactly what they are, but I try to be creative to keep my patron amused and interested in my case. Usually St. Anthony is So Fast, but this time, he's taking his sweet old time (and when you consider that he's with God now, and that for God, a thousand years is as a single day, it's hard not to get nervous about the timely return of the DL) . . . and the consequence on my side is to try and express my love and petition (and anticipated thanksgiving) in many and vastly amusing (just to keep St. Anthony interested) ways.

The most interesting, I think, has been my finally making business-holy cards for Marcel, Therese, and me. I've wanted to do this since last June, and it popped into my head on the train home (sans driver's license) as something I could do for St. Anthony. (Don't try to understand how that would be "for St. Anthony." I'm not even sure, but I think it's because Marcel is littlest and poorest even in Heaven, though rich in Jesus and the love of his brothers and sisters, the Saints. And I thought that someone famous like St. Anthony might enjoy helping out an underdog like Marcel.) If you'd like me to send you one of the holy cards (which turned out so nicely!), just "Contact Me" using the button/box higher up on the right. You can scroll up and you'll find "Contact Me" in the sidebar, in a grey box under the list of months.

But of the other items on my St. Anthony's Bread to-do list, the most promised and still half-done deed is my money-to-charity, so I'll get that in the mail before I post this, God willing.

Then, too, yesterday I said a Rosary for St. Anthony's intentions and those of his clients . . .

And what, we might ask, has St. Anthony been doing for me?

His list is much longer and grander, as befitting a sibling already through the pearly gates.
Just off the top of my head, with help from St. Anthony:
My marriage continues happily, my husband's parents and mine are thriving, each in their own so beautiful way, our sons are healthy in body and soul, and I could go on and on, but God's blessings, truly, are uncountable. 

Yes, truly, but then what has St. Anthony been doing in the Case of the Lost Driver's License?

My best guess, and the photo above confirms it, is that he's been arguing with baby Jesus. 
You'll notice little Jesus looks kind of stern, while St. Anthony seems to be imploring Him. 

As a frequent listener-in on holy Conversations, I'm happy to give you my take on the dialogue:

St. Anthony: Little Jesus, can we give her the driver's license now?

Jesus: No, Anthony, not yet.

St. Anthony: But little Jesus, she needs it.

Jesus: That's none of your business. I'm not scolding you, little brother, just trying to teach you that our Father will take care of these things. You can go spend time with Mary now.

St. Anthony: But little Jesus, she keeps asking me to give it back to her!

+   +    +

To tell you the truth, as much as I read Marcel's Conversations, I can't be sure I'm getting exactly right what Jesus and the other Saints say to each other, so the above lines are more of a guess than a careful transcription.

Still, I know Jesus is right - our Father will take of this and everything else. 

Yet at the same time, without quite saying Jesus is wrong (and since I'm not entirely clear what He's saying to St. Anthony, I'll take the hit and say maybe I got it wrong), I don't think that bit about it not being any of St. Anthony's business can be true. 

Or better yet (says the middle child, the peace maker) perhaps we're all right - it wouldn't be Anto's business, but he's so kind and compassionate that we keep dragging him into it. Then what's a Saint to do?

I don't want to keep him from gazing on Mary, and I'd like to say, "Just this one favor, St. Anthony, and I won't bother you again," but I never know when the next crisis will occur ("Okay, my brain must be around here somewhere. Now where could I have left it this time?"), and we do tend to return to the friends who've come through for us in times of past need . . .

Anyhow, I'm waiting for a call from an incredibly kind new friend named Brittany. She works at an office building near the Federal Court building, and she's going to make a special trip to the FC building to try and find my license, which seems (US Marshalls and all) to have gone seriously missing. If she finds it, she's offered to mail it back to me, and wouldn't that be miraculously wonderful?

When I asked St. Anthony what he was waiting for (and before I found the documentation that is our picture at the top of this post, and which explains that he and Jesus have been arguing my case), I realized that one thing I haven't given him for his bread is a post-of-his-own here at Miss Marcel's Musings. 

So here it is, dear St. Anto, and I hope it will spread your fame far and wide. Don't blame me if you get more requests than ever, but I'm asking Marcel to come argue with Jesus in your place. Then you can go find my license and send it back via Brittany, and then both you and Marcel can laugh at the trick you've played on Jesus. And THEN with him you can both sit on Mary's lap with Therese and tell stories. Preferably stories about us and how much help we still need here in this land of exile where (thank and kiss little Jesus for us!) we are so lucky to know you up there, and that you're thinking and talking about us and gaining more mercy and love for us from that bundle of Divinity, our Savior and Spouse.

Oh, and dear St. Anthony, since I've been having trouble finding the envelope for the charity to which I was going to send money in your name, I'll give it one more look-see, and if I can't find that too, I'll drop the money in the poor box in church during my holy hour. Which I'll gladly offer today, in union with you, in thanksgiving to Our Blessed Mother for her help in getting us (so many of us throughout the world, in Marcel-land and beyond) consecrated to her tomorrow.

Just to let little Jesus know we're teasing and don't think He's the one holding up St. Anthony's successful intercession (I really can't say for sure what they're arguing about in the picture, and it might just be someone else's case), let's say our prayer with greater love than ever today:

Little Jesus, draw me, we will run!

And now, before we go, you know the drill - 

I say:
ANTO!!!!!!!

And you say . . . . (PADUA!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

*     *     *

p.s. I'll keep you posted on any developments in my case!

*    *    *

p.p.s The moral of the story is, when you lose something (or if there's something you need to find, whether it's your vocation, a good spouse, your lost hope, or some dark chocolate), pray to St. Anthony. Promise him the moon, or anything else you're inspired to try and give, and then laugh. Because miracles are about to happen, and there is nothing funnier (and believe me, I LOVE funny so I should know this!) than miracles.

Case in point. 
Case # 7,777, 777, 777, 777, 777, 777, 777 to be exact. 
The Case of Suzie's Missing Driver's License: 

While doing a final proofread of the above post and tweaking the sentence wherein we ask St. Anthony to thank little Jesus for us (that was in parentheses, and I think this post may qualify for the Guinness Book of World's Records in the Most-Parenthetical-Remarks-in-One-Blog-Post category) - and I was just adding the word "kiss" which deserves another post in its honor, but for now simply asking St. Anthony to kiss Jesus for us - three things happened.

1. I got a text from my friend NT. It's JT's birthday TODAY - so God bless JT and his lovely NT and their darling duo of kidlets - and NT asked for prayers for a great day for her beloved, and I told her I'd ask St. Anthony to find that day for them and would she Please say a prayer for me too - that St. Anto would find my Driver's License.

2. After I sent my text to NT and was trying to make room for her return text (my phone being almost as dumb as I am and neither of us having much memory and both of us - if phones have feelings and I'm sure mine must, to compensate for its lack of smart - not wanting to delete any more than we have to), a voicemail came through.

3. Can you guess who it was from?

Can I write this without tears? I can't. That would be plain ungrateful and wrong. 

So, in thanks to St. Anthony for being such a brick, and as a lesson to you, dear reader, to keep offering him every kind of bread you can come up with (and I know a wonderful baker who, being a friend of Marcel's, will read this, and she makes SO MANY kinds of bread and even sent me a loaf across the country, so I can tell you from my own blessed experience that there are so many delicious breads we can offer little Jesus, St. Anthony, and their beloved poor ones - breads of physical and spiritual dimensions that are beyond anything we've ever imagined before!) . . . I would like to announce that I have found what St. Anthony was waiting for:

This post, and me to proclaim, with joyful tears, God's goodness shining through His love in the hearts of the Saints, who are (as Marcel loves to call them) our brothers and sisters, and who love (as Therese loves to teach us and show us) to shower roses upon us.

Because guess who the voicemail was from?

IT WAS FROM BRITTANY AND SHE FOUND MY LICENSE AND SHE HAS ALREADY POPPED IT INTO THE MAIL TO ME!!!!!

And so, that I might post this piece of bread :) and that you might eat it :) :), I will conclude with my half at the top of my lungs, and please make Heaven smile by shouting your half right back at me! Though I may not hear you with my physical ears, I can already hear you in my heart, and I can hear, too, little Jesus laughing with St. Anthony, our sister Therese, and funny Marcel. They're on Mary's lap, and they're going to fall off, they're laughing so hard. I can't wait for Heaven, they make is So Much FUN!!!!

Oh, but before I yell (and you yell back) in joyful praise, let me add this note: NT texted me back to ask if I'd looked in the fridge. I'd forgotten - she lost her DL a month ago and we prayed to St. Anthony and sure enough, after some time without it, she found her I.D. in the most obvious place. The fridge. So if you lose yours, before calling Brittany (God bless and reward her!) you might try the fridge. And the couch. And the reclining chair. Those are places I often find my stuff too . . . But now, with a deep breath and a huge smile, I'll yell my half and leave the rest to you.

ANTO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

With our Consecration Day rapidly approaching, I realized this morning that I am Not Ready. Then a friend stopped by and happened to mention she feels the same way. (No, not about me! About herself!) Are you possibly feeling the same? Just in case you are (feeling not ready too, that is), I'll tell you the solution we agreed upon. We can't wait for our consecration day. We are looking forward to it, yes, but more than that, we can't wait till then to let Mary take over everything. We need her to take over now, pre-consecration, so she can help us to even make it!

But being a complicated soul, or maybe just a simple soul that is easily confused, I had another worry. I didn't share this with my friend (not enough time in our visit), but I'm happy to share it here with you because Our Lady gave me the solution to this difficulty also. She seems determined not to let me worry, and she's doing a good job clearing the cobwebs out of my little brain.

This second problem I had - and it's related to the first - centers on the question of what this consecration requires of me. What did I feel was missing, such that I didn't feel ready? When I thought about it, waking from sleep and not remembering yet that I am a bear of very little brain, cobwebs or empty space notwithstanding, I had a flash of inspiration that showed me exactly what I lack. I don't know if this will be the same for you, but here it is:

I lack trust.
Filial confidence in Mary, our Mother.
That's what was missing, that's why I didn't feel ready.
So I asked myself what it would mean to feel trust, what might inspire trust, what could help.
And immediately I knew that in order to trust Our Lady, I need a definite idea of who it is I'm trusting.

It may sound to you like I haven't been reading my 33 Days. Fr. Gaitley has done a masterful job teaching us, with the insights of St. Louis de Montfort, St. Maximilian Kolbe, St. Mother Teresa, and our dear John Paul II, why we ought to trust Mary - with absolutely everything. 

Ah, but my question was not why I should trust my Mother, but more along the lines of my favorite Dr. Seuss book as a child - more of a "Who is my Mother?" or more particularly, "Are You My Mother?"

No, again, mustard seed. I don't mean are you, dear reader, my Mother!
But between the many apparitions of Our Lady, our recent humor (with Lucia of Fatima) over keeping straight and separate the multiple Our Ladies, and even considering Our Lady during her own lifetime in the mysteries of the Rosary and the many stages of life she experienced, from young and joyful, to older and more luminous (we might say), to yet older and sorrowful in the experience of the Passion of Our Lord, to finally glorious in the glories of her Son . . . between these many faces of Mary, I was wondering who exactly it is I'm going to be trusting. It occurred to me that a big part of my problem is that I'm not doing a good job of knowing Mary - or perhaps I know her superficially in her many facets, but in order to really trust her, wouldn't I need to identify who it is I'm trusting? 

Will the real Mary please stand up?

Even as I ask, I can't help smiling. She's so sweet and accommodating that I suddenly had an image of her standing up and, wouldn't you know, little Jesus, Therese, and Marcel just slid right off her lap!

When push comes to shove (and believe me, those three imps are pushing and shoving to get untangled and sit up and breathe again!), I have to admit I have a favorite Our Lady. I was planning to tell you that I'll imitate Therese and simply choose all - all of Our Ladies! How could anyone choose, for instance, between (as pictured above, left to right) Our Lady of Bejing, Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Tenderness, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Our Lady of Good Counsel? And I didn't even have room for Our Lady of Confidence! And I don't even have a picture of Our Lady of Joyful Surprises!

So yes, I choose all, but . . . in the interests of total honesty (because this blog isn't ever merely about telling you things, but telling you TRUE things, and learning them myself), I have to admit that as I'm writing, I realize I have a favorite, no question.

I love Our Lady of Bejing - she's a special patroness of my older son, and the image he chose as his Christmas present one year.
I love Our Lady of Lourdes - she's the first Our Lady I knew, and she always showers me with some special grace on her feast day.
I love Our Lady of Tenderness - she symbolizes the Russian Blessed Mother that Joseph (aforesaid older son) brought us back from his world travels a few years ago.
And I sure love, love, love Our Lady of Good Counsel, without whom I don't like to think where I'd be (I have a hard enough time making reasonably good decisions with her help; don't make me imagine where I'd be without it).
As to Our Lady of Confidence, she is super special to me due to her relationship with my beloved Fr. Nicholas Maestrini, P.I.M.E. - not to mention the joy of confidence.
Which leads us to Our Lady of Joyful Surprises, and if you knew how much I adore gifts and happy surprises, you'd think she'd be my very favorite, hands down.

Did you notice I left one Our Lady out?
Well yes, actually, I left out dozens, given her practically codependent compulsion to love us with all of her maternal Immaculate Heart and thus make herself present to us, her children, in every corner of the world (and the world being round, it has many more than 4 corners!), and under every lovely image (Mystical Rose, Tower of Ivory, Ark of the Covenant, Morning Star, Seat of Wisdom, Cause of our Joy.....)

But I left out one Our Lady that is pictured above! Let me share with you another image of her, saving you the trouble of scrolling up and simultaneously brightening the center of this post with sheer beauty.

She's Our Lady of Guadalupe!

And why do I love her so? Because, to come full circle, she is my Mother and the one I find it easiest to trust. Why? Because of what she said to us through little Juan Diego, her little Juan Diegito, her little Juanito. And it's true, I love all of Our Ladies, and I need them all, but when I want to remember who she really is and why it makes sense to give her everything, I only have to remember her words:

Hear and let it penetrate your heart, my dear little one:
Let nothing discourage you, nothing depress you.
Let nothing alter your heart or your countenance.
Am I not here who am your Mother?
Are you not under my shadow and protection?
Am I not your fountain of life?
Are you not in the folds of my mantle?
In the crossing of my arms?
Is there anything else that you need?
Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain.

Her feast is coming. She first appeared to St. Juan Diego on December 9th, the day after her great Feast of the Immaculate Conception (the day after we will make our consecration, of all we have and are, to Jesus through her). And she said these words three days later, on December 12th, the day she cured Juan's uncle of the illness that threatened to take his life and which had dear Juan so very worried. This was also the day she gave Juan the sign for the bishop - Castilian roses growing miraculously in winter on a rocky hill in Mexico, but more than that, her image on his tilma, which remains to this day "incorrupt" in her Basilica in Mexico City. December 12th is her feast now too, and if you want to read more, you can go HERE. But really, I think the words above are all you really need to know! 

If you want to have a little triduum of gratitude after your consecration, you can re-read these words each day from the 9th (St. Juan Diego's feast, and the 2nd Sunday of Advent this year) to the 12th (Our Lady of Guadalupe's feast). . . and her words are so very beautiful, I'm going to post them again right after our prayer. Kind of a post-prayer-prayer!

Whichever Lady you choose, or if you choose them all, I pray too that you will feel confidence and peace in the thought that she is your Mother and will never leave you in the cold. Her mantle is wrapped safely around you, and she's sitting down again, so climb on her lap with Therese, Marcel, and adorable little Jesus, and repeat with me:

Draw me, we will run!

And now, safe and warm, let's hear again those words that come from her Heart to ours:

​Hear and let it penetrate your heart, my dear little one:
Let nothing discourage you, nothing depress you.
Let nothing alter your heart or your countenance.
Am I not here who am your Mother?
Are you not under my shadow and protection?
Am I not your fountain of life?
Are you not in the folds of my mantle?
In the crossing of my arms?
Is there anything else that you need?
Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain.

Amen!

Marcel looks joyful and grateful, and well he should. We received a warm welcome yesterday afternoon in St. Therese's dorm at Thomas Aquinas College where, armed with a first class relic of St. Therese herself, I spoke on Marcel to a group of wonderful young women. 

Just as I was getting to the good part - beginning to read aloud a passage from Therese and Marcel's first meeting as Marcel wrote of it in his Autobiography - there was a loud kerfuffle down the hall. And then, those words so familiar to me from days of yore rang out: "Man in the dorm!" How it had taken them so long to announce Marcel's presence I don't know, but then someone must have informed the informers that we were invited guests, and Marcel was only with me in spirit. Because the noise died down, and I was able to continue with Marcel's account.

What Therese and I had wanted to be sure to share were her words to Marcel on God's perfect timing, and then her advice on how (if we rephrase it in the words of Marcel's father, St. Alphonsus) to converse easily and familiarly with God. I had copies of the second passage for the ladies to take with them, but I hadn't thought to give them a written version of that first beautiful quotation. Happily, I can remedy that here. Now that the ladies of TAC have made Marcel's acquaintance through our visit to them, I'm hoping they'll stop by sometime and visit us here as well. If they do, we'll have Therese's words waiting for them, as recorded by Marcel in his Autobiography (592). Therese had told Marcel:

"Yesterday . . . you grumbled again, saying; 'I wish I'd known you a bit sooner! And then, from how many illusory fears my life would have been liberated, how much more would I have tasted the charms of love!' But no, little brother, the dispositions of Providence are realized, necessarily, at a very precise moment which is not brought forward, even for a moment, nor does it allow an instant's delay. Who knows? If you have known me an hour sooner, perhaps you would not have found yesterday the source of grace which filled you with happiness. That is a mystery, and we can only believe in the mercy of God our Father who, in His wisdom, rules in the slightest detail the lives of each one of us. you don't have to complain any more, since I have always been your Therese, and you, Van, have been equally the little brother of Therese since the moment when we existed, both of us, in the thought of God. The ardour of your desires until now has led the good God to lead you to the truth. He experiences a great joy in seeing that you look only to follow Him and to learn the means of pleasing Him."

*      *      *

As I told the girls, I love these words from our sister Therese and I'm convinced they apply to everything that happens in our lives. How else can we understand such authoritative statements as, "The dispositions of Providence are realized, necessarily, at a very precise moment which is not brought forward, even for a moment, nor does it allow an instant's delay," and "We can only believe in the mercy of God our Father who, in His wisdom, rules in the slightest detail the lives of each one of us."

The essence of Therese's message as she expressed it here to little Van (and as she understood, lived, and taught it during her lifetime, and as she continues to teach it to hearts even to the present day) is that "We can only believe in the mercy of God," or as she used to say, "He is all love and mercy." I wouldn't want anyone else but God in charge of every slightest detail of my life. (Well, okay, sometimes I think it would be great if simply anyone else but me were in charge, but that's only on a really ditzy day.) Therese's point is that with God in charge, we don't have anything to worry about!

So as I say, I think this applies to everything in our lives - the least events to the greatest, as I illustrated with an example from my own life. That odd event of November 6, 1985, when a classmate seemed to be asking me out on a date. Even then it was momentous - my junior year in college and the first time a guy there asked me out. But it was also entirely random, and certainly seemed to hold no great harbinger for the future - more of a fascinating one-off or character study. Why in the world was TonyAndres (I knew him only well enough that his name needed both halves to be said together - he wasn't just "Tony" to me yet) seemingly asking me out?!

I said yes mostly out of curiosity. Had his friends put him up to it as a joke (well within the scope of the He-man-woman-hater's-club of his buddies)? Was he desperate to get off campus and knew I had a car? (Turned out he had a car too, an old root beer colored VW bug that would asphyxiate him and any passengers if the heater was running.) Or maybe he'd used up his funds and wanted me to pay for a movie (though it was hard to imagine he'd been calculating how to pay admission to "The Journey of Nattie Gann," a brand new Disney movie we decided on, both silently estimating that it couldn't possibly include embarrassing stuff).

As I mentioned to the girls yesterday, I said yes to TonyAndres almost on a lark. And the next thing I knew, we'd been married 30 years! I drew certain morals from this story which are better left unsaid here, but suffice it to say I have since found said sequence of events, most especially that sweet young man's question to me ("Are you doing anything later?") a remarkable instance of God's providence "realized, necessarily, at a very precise moment which is not brought forward, even for a moment, nor does it allow an instant's delay,"

I didn't have time to share with the girls everything I wanted to tell them. Most of it was about Marcel (what I didn't have time to say as well as what I did), but also, now that I'm on the subject, how amazing to remember why my future husband did ask me out that day. I only found out much later it was because he thought I looked sad. He was absolutely right, I was sad, about something I'd decided not to think about then, so I went to lunch and sat at the most innocuous table I could see: the table where he and his friends sat. They wouldn't mind my sitting there, but they wouldn't concern themselves with me. Little did I know God's mercy was afoot and He was just then preparing to change history!

I like to think that yesterday, bringing Marcel into the girls' dorm, we changed history too. It was a lovely group of about 20 of us at most, and while I can only repeat that there was so much more I would've liked to say, it was such a pleasure and privilege to make a beginning - to introduce them to Van and give them his picture, alongside our sister's.

Which brings me to a conundrum that was thereby solved. It's puzzled me for a long time now why Marcel is so often referred to as Van. I know his name as a boy was Van, but since he received the name Marcel when he entered the Redemptorists at age 16, and since Marcel is the name he's called by Jesus, Mary, and Therese in Conversations, that's what I call him, how I think of him, and I've been confused as to why those who know him well almost always call him by the name of his early boyhood, that is, Van.

Yesterday in introducing my BFF Marcel to these wonderful young women, I began with a little about myself, then gave a short bio of Therese, and finally got to the heart of my heart: our little brother. But lo and behold (can I say it often enough?) our time being limited (dash it all! I do insist you can find me easily, once we're all in heaven, because I'll be the one in the corner of Mary's lap talking about Marcel to my heart's content while holding his hand. He'll want to go off and play, and that will be fine as long as I can keep nattering away eternally about him and Jesus and how terrifically funny the two of them are!) . . . But as I was saying, our time being limited, I didn't get much farther than telling about Van meeting Therese for the first time - and he was Van then! So it dawned on me: what must happen often is that those who fall for Marcel Van meet him first as Van, and it sticks.

Which brings me to perhaps my greatest omission yesterday. Let's hope it wasn't a sin of omission, more just a lapse in judgment or oversight, but you who know her through this blog will be shocked to hear that Miss Marcel failed to highlight, underline, italicize, bolden, CAP, or even simply say that Conversations is THE BOOK to go to for further adventures with Marcel. (Wow, I almost called him Van there - it's habit-forming!) You'll be glad to know I was myself enough to say, more than once, that Conversations is my favorite book ever (the Bible excepted, but as it's more a whole Divine Library, or rather one extended love letter, we put it in a class by itself). But as some of us stayed to visit after the talk, the kind young woman who'd arranged for the talk asked, "Is it necessary to read the books in order? Or could you," and here she paused, unsure whether she should be so daring, but then continued, "start with Volume Two?"

Talk about winning my heart! Yes, oh yes, you can start with Volume Two! How remiss of me not to mention that you ought to start with Volume Two! Not that I'm here to tell anyone what to do, but if I were allowed one universal commandment (to add to the 10 which I'm sure are enough, God having made them whole and complete, even if He had to send them to us nitwits twice), it would be:

11. Start with Conversations.

or, to make it sound more official:

11. Thou Shalt start with Conversations.

Which of course is way too scary sounding, so let's just go back to "Yes, oh yes! Please do start with Conversations!"

Taking my quotations from Marcel's Autobiography, I was reminded of how marvelous that book is, but that's after I skip the first two thirds and dive in at Therese's entrance. Sorry, Marcel, but you and Therese are a team, and entertaining as you are before she joins you, life is too short - like my visit with the girls yesterday - and Conversations too chock-full of love and wisdom for me to spend much time in any of your books besides my ultimate fave.

If I had to say, briefly, just what it is about Conversations that sings out to me with such an irresistible and ever-rewarding love song, I'd say it's the gentleness and compassion of Jesus combined with His assurance that every word He speaks to Marcel is meant for us too. As He said November 4, 1945:

"All the words that I have spoken to you from the beginning until the last one I speak to you in the future - know that it is not to you alone that I am speaking, but to all souls. You see by this that I communicate with all of them. And if, like you, they are sincere in their relationship with Me, then I am speaking also to them. It is not necessary that you understand this. Do not be afraid, therefore, if later somebody says that I spoke only to you . . ."

Thank You Jesus! Thank you Marcel! Thank you JR and the ladies of St. Therese, St. Monica's, St. Bernard's, and Thomas Aquinas College!

On a final note, both in the talk and here, I got to speak of one of my teachers and heroes, Fr. Thomas Aquinas McGovern, S. J. Perhaps "Men [plural] in the dorm" would have been more appropriate, for I also brought with me Fr. McGovern (and Dr. McArthur who wrote his Foreword). Today being St. Francis Xavier's feast day, and Fr. McGovern's sermon on him being one of my favorites in Selected Sermons of Thomas Aquinas McGovern, S.J., I brought copies of the book for the girls dorms, and highly recommended him to them.

While writing this post, I was wishing there was a way I could include that sermon here, too, for the Feast of St. Therese's co-patron of the missions, and I definitely wished I'd urged the good folks at Catholic Exchange to re-publish Xavier's sermon there (they'd posted it on this, his Feast, 4 years ago), but once again I realized my limits.

Hooray for God, who has no limits! The Holy Spirit was again on the move and inspired CE to put up Fr. McGovern's Xavier sermon HERE, and nobody needed my urging - not with God Himself on the job! Or perhaps it was Marcel on the job, thanking me and the girls for the fun time we had in the dorm, making him the guest of honor. He and I think it's so very nutty and truly wonderful that our sister Therese, who only made one excursion (a pilgrimage to Rome) outside her two small French towns during her lifetime is "on a par" with the great St. Francis Xavier as patron of the missions. May the two of them (three counting Marcel, and we can't leave him out if Therese is in) obtain from the Blessed Trinity many more holy and zealous missionaries for the Church, and every blessing upon the missions and those dedicated to the conversion and care of souls. For our part, we'll add our little prayer:

Draw me, we will run!
Thank You, little Jesus, for everything!
Our Lady, Our Mother, pray for us!