Day 7

                                        For simple souls there must be no complicated ways;
                                as I am of their number, one morning during my thanksgiving,
                                 Jesus gave me a simple means of accomplishing my mission.

We're back for Day 7 of our Novena of love and laughter. And I am even more excited than I've been on Days 1 through 6! This might strike you as slightly (or extremely) unbalanced. How much excitement can one person feel - and share - without becoming totally unhinged?

I don't have an answer to that sensible concern, except to say that no one whose husband calls her sillier than the poodle (and take my word for it, the poodle in question is super duper silly) can be expected to put a lid on her excitement. Especially not when the Saints have been provoking her with their kisses, their teasing, their surprises, their roses.

You see, we've started a novena. That's the Catholic version of winning the lottery. Not like buying a lottery ticket, mind you. I'm saying that praying on this scale is like winning the lottery, and not just a $50 prize, but the millions we know would unhinge our lives much more quickly than any amount of holy enthusiasm is likely to do. The obvious question to ask, then, is "What scale? If praying on 'this' scale is going to produce such radical effects, what kind of prayers are we talking about?"

We're talking about the time-honored, time-tested novena in whatever form, however silly or sensible. For those of you just joining us now, mid-novena, feel free to read and pray the previous posts with us, but you're already in without that extra effort; our Boss has a policy of paying in full no matter what hour - or in this case, day - you join the party. The lovely reality is that, by definition, in its very 9-ness every novena replicates the original Pentecostal one: the Apostles praying in the upper room with the Blessed Mother, awaiting the gift of the Holy Spirit. And just as they could be sure (though they didn't know it yet, but instead prayed with fear) that Our Lady's presence guaranteed God's descent among them, for He can never resist her humility and poverty, so we too can expect His Personal outpouring of Love, and every good thing that comes along with it.

You can see then that we're living dangerously, but with the best of Friends on our side. Up above are Marcel and Therese; we know Our Lady is near us, and wherever she goes, her loving spouse St. Joseph is with her. I'm confident St. Anthony and Blessed Clement Vismara have joined the merriment; today we have St. Aloysius jumping in; and then our guardian angels have been prompting and aiding us too. To what heights can't we climb in hope? To what depths will not the Infinite Mercy of God reach? There are no limits to what God will do for us, and He is all-powerful, so there won't be an obstacle He can't overcome. So far in these days I've heard of a major medical healing; a house finding for a family who needed a new roof over their heads; and the holy departure of a dying grandfather, surrounded by the Divine Mercy as he left this exile for Home. Then there are the myriad smaller miracles - as difficult to number as the individual bits in a cascade of confetti tossed up and over a smiling bridegroom and his beautiful bride. No more fear, then! Let's rejoice in the prayers He's answered and those He's waiting (until the exact right moment) to fulfill. He hears every one of our cries, and for those who are too tired to cry, we're including your needs in our prayers, tucked safely inside our hearts, which we hand joyfully to God.

One reason we have so much confidence in our little brother Marcel is that he knew the meaning of prayer. Actually, he kept forgetting, but Our Lord and Our Lady joined St. Therese in tirelessly teaching him new ways to express himself to God and intercede for the world. So many ways! Too many to cover in our few nine days, but we won't fret at what we can't do. Let's go ahead, instead, with what we can do! Yesterday I stopped abruptly (or so I felt it was) with little Marcel crying out, "I was looking, therefore, for a saint of my imagination but where then was he hidden, as I could not find him anywhere? I dare not invent a new way myself. So what was there to do?" I told you not to worry, God would answer this prayer, and soon. But let's return to our brother's Autobiography and here him tell us himself about what happened next and how God surprised him and turned his world (and his concept of sanctity) upside down. Marcel continues, in the study hall of the minor seminary where we left him, at (564):

The good God undoubtedly must understand me. I loved Him, and I wished to prove my love in any way, be it even with a smile or a mouthful of good rice. I hardly liked the discipline, which always frightened me, but when one loves is it necessary to give oneself the discipline? People normally get more pleasure from a simple glance of love than from a thousand presents which may be offered to them. That is why I always remained undecided, not daring of myself to be the last in the world to become a saint, in spite of all the love I had for God. That's how it was. God brought the reply to this thorny question to me.
       One evening, at a special visit to the Blessed Sacrament, when I was absorbed in meditating on the Incarnate Word hidden under the appearance of bread, as the books tell us, suddenly my mind was invaded by a strange thought which drove away all the sweetness I was tasting in the presence of God; a thought which urged me to become a saint. Ah! To become a saint! . . . How many more times shall I consider this thought as being a temptation to pride? and I chased it away with all my strength, even asking the Blessed Virgin to come to my aid. I was powerless before the thought, as if a supernatural power was obliging me to keep it fixed firmly in my mind. No! I decided to resist . . . "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, come to help me! . . . " No! No! It is not possible for me to become a saint. I have a great fear of the discipline, my stomach is too weak to fast, and I am incapable of staying on my knees for a long time in meditation. "O my God come to my aid, deliver me from this temptation." I opened once again the book, Visits to the Blessed Sacrament by St. Alphonsus, and, I don't know why, but it was as if the thought of becoming a saint was totally obsessing my mind and body. The strength of my resistance made me tremble, and I no longer knew to what means to have recourse in order to break entirely with this thought. I was extremely worried. I was afraid that by saying 'Yes' to my conscience, I was committing a sin for having 'dared to want to become a saint.' I still categorically refused, therefore, and I looked for every reason to reject this thought.
       The hour having passed, I had to return to the study room. I went to throw myself at the feet of the statue of Our Lady of Grace before leaving the chapel, and I said this prayer to her, "O dear Mother, show you are truly my Mother. I beg of you to give me a sign which will allow me to understand if the thoughts which are torturing my heart at this time come from God, or from the devil who wishes to trouble me. I want you to hear my prayer. Tomorrow, permit me to come back close to you in the hope of receiving your counsel and of recovering peace." Then I returned to the study room. It was the time when, ordinarily, I did my homework and learned my lessons, but this time I had already finished both. I wished to use the time therefore to read a life of of a saint. I went to the mantelpiece with the idea of taking a volume of the Lives of the Saints.
       I saw with a quick glance that all the dust-covers of these books were known already to me. There were also among them some volumes that I had never touched, for the simple reason that they had no pictures, which removed any desire to read them. I said to myself: "If I don't spend the time reading a life of a saint now, what can I do?" . . . After reflection, I decided to choose at random the life of a saint, a life which would fall into my hands. I would read it even if I had already done so. I put this into practice immediately. With my eyes tightly closed I mixed the books together, higgledly-piggledy, and waving my arms three times, I let my hand fall on the pile of books and, as agreed, I would read the book upon which my index finger landed firmly. While following this procedure I recited a kind of magic formula to the Blessed Virgin to guide my hand on to a volume which was, at least, interesting. It's done . . . I opened my eyes, not knowing what was happening, and I did not know what to do. I had just put my hand on a book . . . that I had not yet read, but had already dismissed as containing nothing unusual. I took hold of it and read the title:

                                                               The Story of a Soul

I let the book fall noisily on the pile of books, with the intention of leaving it to one side without even opening it. But I reproached myself: "Ah! by acting like this you have broken your promise. No! A cadet of Our Lady would never permit himself such reprehensible behaviour." I took the book again with my head full of muddled questions of this nature: "What is this Story of a Soul? Who is this Saint Therese of the Child Jesus? Where does she come from??? What is certain is that she resembles many thousands of other saints." Then I summarized her life in an amusing manner in these terms: "Since her birth until her last breath she had many ecstasies and performed a number of miracles; she fasted on bread and water, only taking one meal a day; she spent the night in prayer and gave herself the discipline until she bled. After her death her body exhaled a very pleasant fragrance and many extraordinary things happened on her tomb. Finally, she was canonized by the Holy Church ... etc." Today I see clearly how rash these thoughts were. Without knowing anything about Saint Therese I had dared to sketch out her life in such a summary manner.
       O, my dear sister, you must necessarily be a saint of heroic courage to put up with the erroneous judgments that I have held on your life. On that day you doubtless had to exercise much patience in my regard, and perhaps had to make an effort not to smile on seeing me allowing myself such childishness. But you were there, waiting for me in such a way that a few minutes later your unfortunate little brother sees the word of God come true: "The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone." The book which with pique he had just rejected pitilessly, was the book that most harmonized with his own soul. One could even maintain that it was the description of his own soul, the story of his own life."

And with that, dear reader, we must end so that I can post this 7th Day just under the wire . . . I thought earlier that I might have to tell you the secret of a "little" novena in the spirit of Therese and Marcel. One must forget a day, or lose count, or fall off the novena, or get distracted by some shiny thing and generally prove one's littleness in the ability to succeed at 9 days in a row. We were close today to not having this post, but the truth is there is nothing I've seen (and you will gasp, but I had to do errands today and was in five stores, two libraries, a post office and two banks), nothing that could in the least draw my attention away from the sparkling attraction of Marcel and Therese . . . because I know what's coming next in their love story, and it's so good!

But with that, I will leave you until tomorrow. Except (always an "except") to comment on the thought that woke me this morning, and that I've not been able to attend to until now. It was at the top of this post, and I will quote it again now. It's from Story of a Soul, that book that is tantalizing Marcel where we left him. Will he or won't he? Tune in tomorrow to find out, but meanwhile, we have some acquaintance with Therese's memoir, we quoted it yesterday, and here again is the line that captured my heart and woke me:

 For simple souls there must be no complicated ways; 
                                as I am of their number, one morning during my thanksgiving, 
                                                                   Jesus gave me a simple means of accomplishing my mission.

I have known this saying - "For simple souls there are no complicated ways" - for many, many years, and it is with great good humor that I have quoted it often in order to laugh about my inversion of the sentiment. For my complicated soul, I always jested (but in earnest), there are no simple ways!

Little did I realize I was misquoting St. Therese! She does not say that for simple souls there ARE no complicated ways, but that for simple souls there must be no complicated ways. And furthermore, she did not claim any power of simplicity for herself, but rather remarked that Jesus was the One who gave her a simple means of accomplishing her mission. What a relief! In other words, I'm not giving up yet. And even in these past few days, I've had the bizarre but miraculous and happy experience of doing something differently than I'm used to doing it - and I could tell it was not exactly me, it was Jesus giving me a new simplicity in the doing of a task I'd always approached in a much more complicated and stressed out manner. Thank You, Jesus!

Whatever your hopes are, then, and I do hope you've awakened some dreams as well, I pray that Jesus grants them swiftly and in a manner far greater than you'd dared to imagine. I love to consider how St. Monica was praying that her son, that rascal Augustine, would just get right with God before he headed into his early grave. She had no idea how her prayers moved the good God. He did far more than give her son a deathbed conversion: He made Augustine one of the greatest Doctors the Church has ever known, a Bishop who fought heresy and preached truth for years and years and years, and left volumes upon volumes to inspire every theologian to come after him until the end of time! That's the kind of answer God wants to give YOUR prayers, so let's get to it - let's pray together, and let's not worry about anything any more, ever.

Dear Jesus, You love us so much more than we know. Begin to teach us just how much. Shower us with Your kisses, pour Your blessings upon all our dear ones, draw us close to Your Sacred Heart and never let us go! May we become best friends with the Saints. May we find the books You have in mind for us - the books that will set us on fire with love for You - and may we become littler and littler, just like Marcel and Therese. And if there is anything You need to change in us, please do it gently, because we don't like the discipline any more than our brother did. Finally, we ask You to bless everyone who needs our prayers, everyone for whom we've promised to pray, and all those who are in special need of mercy at this moment and throughout these days. We love You, Jesus, a lot! Kiss Marcel for us and tell him to come teach us how to be saints like he is, so we can live with You both forever in heaven. Amen!