​Seven years ago today, I wrote here:

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

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

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

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

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

"Your duty simply consists in writing."

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

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

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

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

"Let not your hearts be troubled."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Draw me; we will run!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or then again, it could just be the Fall!

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

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

So first, here are the links:

With St. Juan Diego to the Merciful Mother

Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the Very Littlest Ones

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

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

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

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

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

From Servant of God Archbishop Luis Martinez:

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

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

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

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

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

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

+ + +

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

Draw me; we will run!!!

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

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

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

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

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It's been a busy few weeks.

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

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

The other photos above reflect my recent obsession with hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our take-way?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Translation:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*  *  *

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

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


An Oblation to Love


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


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


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


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


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

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

Draw me; we will run!