The Story of a Soul | Page 7

all souls did not
receive an equal measure of grace. I was filled with wonder when I saw
extraordinary favours showered on great sinners like St. Paul, St.
Augustine, St. Mary Magdalen, and many others, whom He forced, so
to speak, to receive His grace. In reading the lives of the Saints I was
surprised to see that there were certain privileged souls, whom Our
Lord favoured from the cradle to the grave, allowing no obstacle in
their path which might keep them from mounting towards Him,
permitting no sin to soil the spotless brightness of their baptismal robe.
And again it puzzled me why so many poor savages should die without
having even heard the name of God.
Our Lord has deigned to explain this mystery to me. He showed me the
book of nature, and I understood that every flower created by Him is
beautiful, that the brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do
not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy.
I understood that if all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature
would lose its springtide beauty, and the fields would no longer be
enamelled with lovely hues. And so it is in the world of souls, Our
Lord's living garden. He has been pleased to create great Saints who
may be compared to the lily and the rose, but He has also created lesser
ones, who must be content to be daisies or simple violets flowering at
His Feet, and whose mission it is to gladden His Divine Eyes when He
deigns to look down on them. And the more gladly they do His Will the
greater is their perfection.
I understood this also, that God's Love is made manifest as well in a
simple soul which does not resist His grace as in one more highly

endowed. In fact, the characteristic of love being self-abasement, if all
souls resembled the holy Doctors who have illuminated the Church, it
seems that God in coming to them would not stoop low enough. But He
has created the little child, who knows nothing and can but utter feeble
cries, and the poor savage who has only the natural law to guide him,
and it is to their hearts that He deigns to stoop. These are the field
flowers whose simplicity charms Him; and by His condescension to
them Our Saviour shows His infinite greatness. As the sun shines both
on the cedar and on the floweret, so the Divine Sun illumines every
soul, great and small, and all correspond to His care--just as in nature
the seasons are so disposed that on the appointed day the humblest
daisy shall unfold its petals.
You will wonder, dear Mother, to what all this is leading, for till now I
have said nothing that sounds like the story of my life; but did you not
tell me to write quite freely whatever came into my mind? So, it will
not be my life properly speaking, that you will find in these pages, but
my thoughts about the graces which it has pleased Our Lord to bestow
on me.
I am now at a time of life when I can look back on the past, for my soul
has been refined in the crucible of interior and exterior trials. Now, like
a flower after the storm, I can raise my head and see that the words of
the Psalm are realised in me: "The Lord is my Shepherd and I shall
want nothing. He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me
up on the water of refreshment. He hath converted my soul. He hath led
me on the paths of justice for His own Name's sake. For though I
should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils for
Thou are with me."[6]
Yes, to me Our Lord has always been "compassionate and merciful,
long-suffering and plenteous in mercy."[7]
And so it gives me great joy, dear Mother, to come to you and sing His
unspeakable mercies. It is for you alone that I write the story of the
little flower gathered by Jesus. This thought will help me to speak
freely, without troubling either about style or about the many
digressions that I shall make; for a Mother's heart always understands

her child, even when it can only lisp, and so I am sure of being
understood and my meaning appreciated.
If a little flower could speak, it seems to me that it would tell us quite
simply all that God has done for it, without hiding any of its gifts. It
would not, under the pretext of humility, say that it was not pretty, or
that it had not