“Plenty pages for this story,”—na so the person wey write am talk—”nobody go ever read dem for this earth.” E dey necessary to repeat wetin e talk and stress am well. Some sufferings dey wey dem no suppose reveal for this world; Our Lord don carefully keep for Imself alone the right to reveal their merit and glory, for that clear vision where dem go remove every veil. “My God,” e cry out the day wey e take im religious vows, “give me martyrdom for soul or body . . . or better still, give me both!” And Our Lord, wey, as e imself confess, fulfil all im desires, grant this one too, even more abundantly than the rest. E make “the flood of tenderness wey no get end, wey dem hold inside Im Divine Heart, overflow enter the soul of Im little Bride.” This na the “Martyrdom of Love,” wey e describe so well for im sweet song. But na im own teaching say, “to dedicate yourself as person wey offer imself as sacrifice to Love no mean say you dedicate yourself to sweetness and consolation; na to offer yourself to everything wey dey painful and bitter, because na only through sacrifice Love dey live . . . and the more we wan surrender ourselves to Love, the more we must surrender ourselves to suffering.”
So, because e desire to reach “the highest height of Love,” the Divine Master lead am go there through the rough road of sorrow, and na only for the cold, bare top of that height e die as person wey offer imself as sacrifice to Love.
. . . . . . .
We don see how great im sacrifice be when e leave im happy home and im Papa wey love am with so much tenderness. Person fit imagine say this sacrifice no too hard because, for Carmel, e meet im two elder sisters again, wey e love well-well. But na the opposite happen: this one give the young postulant plenty occasions to hold back the strong natural affection wey e get. Dem dey follow the rules of staying alone and keeping silence strictly, and na only during recreation e dey see im sisters. If e no dey deny imself so much, e for often sit near dem, but “e prefer to keep company with those Sisters wey e no too find easy to like,” and nobody fit tell whether e get any special affection for im own sisters or not.
Some time after e enter, dem appoint am as “helper” to Sister Agnes of Jesus, im dear “Pauline”; this one bring another opportunity for sacrifice. Thérèse know say dem forbid every conversation wey no necessary, so e no allow imself even one small word. “O my little Mother,” e talk later, “how I suffer! I no fit open my heart to you, and I think say you no know me again!”
After five years of this heroic silence, dem elect Sister Agnes of Jesus as Prioress. For the evening of the election, Thérèse for fit rejoice say from that time, e go fit talk freely with im “little Mother” and pour out im soul as e dey do before. But sacrifice don become im everyday food. If any favour dey wey e seek pass another, na make dem regard am as the lowest and the least; and among all the Sisters, no one see Mother Prioress less often than am.
E desire to live the life of Carmel with all the perfection wey St. Teresa require, and even though the constant dryness for im spiritual life dey make am suffer like martyr, e no stop to dey pray. One time, one novice enter im small room, and the heavenly look for im face touch the novice deeply. E dey sew with all im attention, yet e be like say e don lose imself inside deep contemplation. “Wetin you dey think about?” the young Sister ask. “I dey meditate on the ‘Our Father,'” Thérèse answer. “E sweet so much to call God ‘Our Father!'” . . . and tears shine for im eyes. Another time e talk, “I no really see wetin more I go get for Heaven pass wetin I get now; I go see God, na true, but as for to dey with Am, I don already dey with Am even for this earth.”
The flame of Divine Love consume am, and na this e imself relate: “Some days after I offer myself to God’s Merciful Love, I dey for the choir, just dey start the Way of the Cross, when I suddenly feel as if one arrow of fire wound me, and e burn so strongly that I think say I go die. I no know how to explain this experience wey carry me beyond myself; nothing dey wey I fit compare am with to describe how strong that flame be. E be as if one power wey eye no fit see plunge my whole self inside fire. . . . But oh! wetin kind fire! wetin kind sweetness!”
When Mama Prioress ask her whether this ecstasy na the first one wey she don experience, she answer simply: “Dear Mama, strong love don carry my spirit go far plenty times, especially one time during my time as novice, when I stay far from this world for one whole week. E be like say dem cover all earthly things with veil. But that time, no real fire dey consume me. I fit bear those strong movements of love without expecting say the ropes wey tie me to this earth go break; but for the day wey I dey talk about now, one minute—one second—more, and my soul for don free. Ah! I find myself back for earth again, and at once, spiritual dryness return to my heart.” Na true, the Divine Hand don pull out the arrow wey dey burn with fire—but the wound na wound unto death!
For that close union with God, Thérèse learn to control herself in a way wey stand out. All the sweet virtues flourish for the garden of her soul, but make we no imagine say these wonderful flowers grow without any effort from her.
“For this world, nothing dey bear fruit without suffering—whether na pain for body, sorrow wey person hide for heart, or trials wey sometimes na only God know. When good thoughts and generous decisions don spring up for our souls as we read the lives of the Saints, make we no just satisfy ourselves, as we fit do with books wey no concern religion, by showing some admiration for the special talent of the people wey write them—rather, make we think about the price wey, without doubt, dem don pay for that supernatural good wey dem don produce.”[1]
And if today Thérèse dey change so many hearts, and nobody fit count all the good wey she dey do for earth, we fit well believe say she buy all of am with the same price wey Jesus use buy our souls back: through suffering and the Cross!
One of these sufferings wey no small at all na the war wey she dey fight against herself without stopping, as she refuse to satisfy any demand from her nature wey naturally get pride and dey act without waiting. Even when she still be child, she don form the habit of never giving excuse for herself or complaining; for Carmel, she strive to be the little servant of her fellow Sisters, and with that same spirit of humility, she try to obey everybody without making any distinction.
One evening, during her sickness, the Community gather for garden to sing hymn before one Altar of the Sacred Heart. Sister Thérèse, wey fever don already make weak and thin, manage join them with difficulty. As she reach there, she don tire so much that she must sit down at once. When the hymn start, one of the Sisters signal to her make she stand up. Without hesitation, the humble child stand up, and despite the fever and the heavy suffering wey dey press her down, she remain standing till the end.
The Sister wey dey care for sick people don advise her make she walk small for garden for fifteen minutes every day. For her, this advice na command. One afternoon, one Sister notice the plenty effort wey the walk dey cost her, and she talk: “Sister Thérèse, e go better well-well make you rest; this kind walking no fit do you any good. Na only to tire yourself you dey tire yourself!” She answer: “Na true, but you know wetin dey give me strength? I dey offer each step for one missionary. I dey think say, maybe, for that faraway place, one of them don weary and tire for the apostolic work wey e dey do, and to reduce how e tire, I dey offer my own tiredness to the Good God.”
She give her novices some beautiful examples of how to free their hearts from attachment to things. One year, the Sisters’ family members and the Convent servants don send bunches of flowers for Mama Prioress feast day. Thérèse dey arrange them with plenty good taste when one Lay Sister talk with vex: “E easy to see say na your friends give the big bunches of flowers. I suppose say na for back dem go put the ones wey poor people send again!” . . . Na only gentle smile she give as answer, and even though the arrangement no go look so fine, she immediately put the flowers wey the servants send for the place wey everybody go see them pass.
As admiration fill the Lay Sister, she go meet the Prioress at once to confess how she don act without kindness, and to praise the patience and humility wey Sister Thérèse show.
After Thérèse die, that same Sister, with full confidence, press her forehead against the feet of the holy nun, as she ask again for forgiveness for her fault. That same moment, she feel say she don heal from cerebral anæmia, wey she don suffer from for many years, and wey don prevent her from settling down either to read or to pray for inside her mind.
Sister Thérèse no dey avoid humiliation at all; instead, she dey eagerly look for am. Na why she offer herself as “helper” to one Sister wey she know well say e hard to please, and dem accept this generous offer. One day, after she don suffer plenty for this Sister hand, one novice ask am why she look so happy. The answer surprise the novice well-well: “Na because Sister N. just talk things wey no sweet for ear to me. See the joy wey she don give me! I wish say I fit meet am now, and smile sweetly at am.” . . . As she still dey talk, the Sister wey dem dey talk about knock for door, and the novice wey surprise fit see with her own eye how Saints dey forgive. Sister Thérèse later admit say she “rise so high above earthly things that humiliation only make her stronger.”
On top all these virtues, she get wonderful courage. From when she enter Carmel, at the age of fifteen, dem allow am follow all the practices of their strict Rule, except fasting. Sometimes, when her companions for novitiate see how her face pale, dem go try get dispensation for am, either from the Night Office, or from waking up at the normal time for morning. But Mother Prioress no ever agree to these requests. She go talk say, “Person wey get this kind strong spirit no suppose receive treatment like pikin; dispensations no be for her. Make una leave am, because God dey sustain am. Besides, if she truly sick, make she come tell me by herself.”[2]
But Thérèse always hold this principle: “We suppose use all the strength wey we get before we complain.” How many times she join Matins even as her head dey turn or serious headache dey worry am! She go talk say, “I fit walk, so I suppose dey where I go do my duty.” And because of this strength wey no dey give way to fear, she do things wey show heroic courage.
E hard before her delicate stomach fit get used to the simple food for Carmel. Some things dey make am sick, but she sabi hide am so well that nobody ever suspect. The Sister wey dey sit near am for table talk say she try find out the food wey Thérèse like pass, but she no succeed. And because the Sisters for kitchen see say e easy to please am, dem always give am wetin remain. Na only during her last sickness, when dem order am to talk which food dey trouble her stomach, dem come know the mortifications wey she don endure. She talk for that time say, “When Jesus want make we suffer, no way dey to escape am. So, when Sister Mary of the Sacred Heart[3] be procuratrix, she try care for me with the tenderness of a mother. For everybody eye, dem dey care for me well, but see the plenty mortifications wey she make me bear! Because she dey give me food according to wetin she herself like, and wetin she like dey completely different from wetin I like.”
Thérèse spirit of sacrifice reach far; she dey eagerly look for wetin dey painful and unpleasant, as the portion wey rightly belong to her. Everything wey God ask, she give Him without delay and without holding anything back.
She talk say, “During my postulancy, e cost me plenty effort to do some bodily penances wey be custom for our convents, but I no ever allow the way my body dey reject them stop me. E be like say the image of my Lord wey dem crucify dey look me with eyes wey dey plead, and dey beg me for these sacrifices.”
She dey watch herself so carefully that she no ever fail to follow any small advice from Mother Prioress, or any of the small rules wey dey make religious life get so much merit. One old nun notice her extraordinary faithfulness for this matter, and from that time on, she always regard am as Saint. Sister Thérèse dey often talk say she no ever do any great penances. Na because her fervour make am count the few wey dem allow am do as nothing. But one time, she fall sick because she wear one small iron Cross for too long; the Cross get sharp points wey press enter her flesh. She later talk say, “Small thing like this no for cause this sickness, if God no want use am make me understand say the greater austerities of the Saints no be for me—or for souls wey dey follow the path of ‘spiritual childhood.'”
. . . . . . .
Our Lord once tell Saint Teresa say, “The souls wey My Father love pass na the ones wey He dey test pass, and how great their trials be na the measure of His Love.” Thérèse na soul wey God love so dearly, and He dey about to fill the measure of His Love by making her pass through real martyrdom. The reader go remember the call for Good Friday, April 3, 1896, when, to use her own words, she hear the “low sound from far away wey announce say the Bridegroom dey come near”; but she still get long months of pain to endure before the blessed hour when she go gain freedom.
For morning of dat Good Friday, she talk about di blood wey she cough out di night before as if e no be serious matter at all, so Mother Prioress allow her to do all di penance wey di Rule prescribe for dat day. For afternoon, one novice see her as she dey clean windows. Her face don pale well-well, and even with all di energy wey she dey show, e clear say her strength don nearly finish. As di novice, wey love her well-well, see how she don tire, she burst into tears and beg for permission to help her get small rest from di work. But di young Sister wey dey train di novices warn her strongly make she no do so. She talk say she fit bear dis small tiredness well on di day wey Jesus suffer and die.
Soon, one cough wey no gree stop begin worry Mother Prioress; she order make dem give Sister Thérèse food wey go strengthen her more, and di cough stop for some time. Our dear little Sister cry out, “Truly, sickness dey take too long to set person free. Na only Love I fit rely on.”
She feel strong urge to answer di appeal of di Carmelites of Hanoï, wey really want make she come join dem, and she begin one novena to Venerable Théophane Vénard[4] to ask for healing. But sadly, dat novena turn out to be only di beginning of one more serious stage of her sickness.
Like her Divine Master, she pass through di world dey do good; like Him, people forget her and no know her, and now, as she still dey follow His Footsteps, she go climb di hill of Calvary. Mother Prioress don dey used to seeing her suffer all di time, but still always joyful and full of courage. Without doubt, na God inspire Mother Prioress to allow her join di Community activities, even though some of dem dey tire her well-well. For night, she go use courage climb di stairs alone, dey stop for every step to catch her breath. Na with difficulty she dey reach her small room, and by then she go don tire so much dat sometimes, as she later admit, e dey take her one full hour to remove her clothes. After all dis struggle, na on top hard, simple bed she dey rest. Her nights too dey very hard, and when dem ask her whether she no go like make somebody stay near her during di hours wey she dey feel pain, she answer: “Oh, no! Instead, I dey very glad to stay for one room far from my Sisters, so dat dem no go hear me. I dey content to suffer alone—as soon as people begin pity me and shower me with care, my happiness dey leave me.”
See di strength of soul wey dese words show! Where we dey find sorrow, she find joy. Wetin dey too hard for us to bear—when other people overlook us and ignore us—become source of joy for her. And her Divine Husband know well how to give her dat bitter joy wey sweet her so much. Many times, dem need to give her treatments wey dey cause pain. One day, when di treatments don make her suffer pass normal, she dey rest for her small room during recreation time, and she hear one Sister for kitchen dey talk about her like dis: “Sister Thérèse no go live long, and truly, sometimes I dey wonder wetin our Mother Prioress go find talk about her when she die.[5] E go really hard for her to find wetin to talk, because dis little Sister, even though she dey pleasant, certainly never do anything wey worth to talk about.” Di Sister wey dey care for sick people, wey also hear di talk, turn to Thérèse and say: “If na wetin people think of you you dey rely on, today for really disappoint you.” She answer: “Wetin people think! Thank God, He don give me di grace not to attach any importance at all to dat. Make I tell you something wey show me once and for all how much e worth. A few days after di ceremony wey I receive my religious habit, I go our dear Mother’s room, and one of di Sisters wey happen to dey there talk when she see me: ‘Dear Mother, dis novice really dey bring you honour. See how healthy she look! I hope say she go fit follow di Rule for many years to come.’ I dey feel really pleased with dis praise when another Sister enter, look me and talk: ‘Poor little Sister Thérèse, you look so tired! You really dey make me worry. If your health no improve soon, I fear say you no go fit follow di Rule for long.’ I be only sixteen then, but dis small thing touch me so deeply dat I never again attach importance to di way people opinion dey change.”
For another time, somebody talk say: “Dem dey talk say you never suffer much.” As she dey smile, she point to one glass wey get medicine wey red well-well inside. She talk say, “You see this small glass? Person go think say na drink wey sweet pass dey inside, but for true, e bitter pass every other thing wey I dey take. Na so my life be. For other people eye, everything for my life don fine and sweet; dem think say na wine wey sweet pass I dey drink every time; but for me, na bitterness full am. I talk say bitterness, but still, my life no be bitter life, because I don learn to find my joy and sweetness inside everything wey bitter.”
“You dey suffer well-well now, no be so?” “Yes, but I don long to suffer so much.” Her novices talk say, “E dey pain us well-well to see you for this kind pain, and to think say the pain fit increase!”
“Oh! Make una no grieve because of me. I don reach where I no fit suffer again, because all suffering don sweet so much. Besides, na real mistake for una to dey worry una selves about wetin I fit still pass through. E be like to dey interfere with God work. We wey dey run for the way of Love must never allow anything to disturb us. If I no just dey live one moment at a time, I no go fit get patience; but na only the present I dey look, I dey forget the past, and I dey take care well-well make I no carry the future come before e reach. When we allow discouragement or loss of hope to overcome us, many times na because we dey think too much about the past and the future. But make una pray plenty for me, because many times, na just when I cry to Heaven for help I dey feel most like person wey dem abandon.”
“How you dey manage make discouragement no overcome you for that kind time?” “I dey turn to God and all His Saints, and I dey thank dem despite everything; I believe say dem wan see how far my trust fit reach. But the words of Job no enter my heart for nothing: ‘Even if God kill me, I go still trust in Him.'[6] I admit say e take long time before I reach this level of handing myself over completely to God; but now I don reach am, and na the Lord Himself bring me there.”
Another time she talk say: “The Will of Our Lord don fill my heart reach the brim, and because of this, if dem add any other thing, e no fit enter deep at all; instead, like oil on top clean, clear water, e go just slide pass easily. If my heart no already dey overflow, and na the feelings of joy and sadness wey dey change so quickly must fill am, then truly, one wave of bitter pain for flood am; but all these changes wey dey follow each other quickly hardly even shake the surface of my soul, and deep inside am, peace wey nothing fit disturb dey reign.”
And yet, thick darkness cover her soul, and the temptations against Faith, wey she dey always overcome but wey dey always return, dey rob her of every feeling of happiness when she think about her death wey dey near. She go talk say, “If no be for this trial, wey person no fit understand, I think say I for die of joy as I dey look forward to leaving this earth soon.”
Through this trial, the Divine Master want put the final touches to her purification, so that she no go only walk fast, but go run for her little way of trust and handing herself over to God. Her words prove this again and again. “I no desire death or life. If Our Lord give me chance to choose, I no go choose. Na only wetin He wills I want; na wetin He does I love. I no fear the last struggle, or any pain—no matter how great—wey my sickness fit bring. God don always be my help. He don hold my hand lead me from when I still small, and na Him I dey depend on. My agony fit reach the highest limit, but I dey sure say He no go ever abandon me.”
This kind trust in God no fit but stir up the devil anger—the one wey, as life dey end, dey try every trick to plant seeds of loss of hope for the hearts of people wey dey die.
“Last night, one terrible pain for heart grip me,” na wetin e confess to Mother Agnes of Jesus one time; “I lost inside darkness, and from inside am one cursed voice come out: ‘You sure say God love you? Na He Himself tell you so? Wetin creatures think no go make you righteous for His eye.’ These thoughts don torture me for long when dem bring your small note come give me, like message from Heaven. Dear Mother, you remind me of the special graces wey Jesus don pour on me, and, as if God don reveal something to you about my trial, you assure me say God love me deeply, and say e don nearly reach time for me to receive my eternal crown from His Hands. At once, peace and joy return to my heart. Still, this thought come to me: ‘Na the love wey my little Mother get for me make am write these words.’ Immediately, I feel something move me to carry the Gospels, and as I open the book without choosing any particular place, I see one passage wey I never notice before: ‘The person wey God send dey speak the Words of God, because God no dey give the Spirit by measure.'[7] Then I sleep with full comfort for heart. Dear Mother, na you the Good God send to me, and I must believe you, because you dey speak the Words of God.”
For several days inside the month of August, Thérèse remain, as person fit talk am, like person wey no be imself, and e beg make dem pray for am. Nobody don ever see am for this kind condition before, and inside the pain for heart wey e no fit describe, e continue to repeat: “Oh! Prayer for people wey dey struggle as dem dey die dey necessary well-well! If only person know!”
One night, e beg the Sister wey dey care for sick people make e sprinkle Holy Water on im bed, and e talk say: “The devil don surround me. I no dey see am, but I dey feel am; e dey torment me and hold me tight like iron, so that I no go find even the smallest comfort; e dey increase my sufferings so that I go lose all hope. . . . And I no fit pray. Na only to look Our Blessed Lady and talk: ‘Jesus!’ I fit do. That prayer wey we dey pray for Compline dey necessary well-well: ‘Procul recedant somnia et noctium phantasmata!’ (‘Free us from the frightening spirits of the night.’) Something wey I no understand dey happen inside me. No be for myself I dey suffer, but for another soul, and satan dey vex.” The Sister wey dey care for am shock, light one candle wey dem don bless, and the spirit of darkness run away and no ever return; but the sufferer remain inside very deep pain for heart till the end.
One day, as e dey gaze at the beautiful sky, one person tell am: “soon, your home go dey there, beyond the blue sky. See the love wey you take dey look am!” E only smile, but later e tell Mother Prioress: “Dear Mother, the Sisters no understand my sufferings. Just now, as I dey look the sky, na only the beauty of the physical sky I dey admire—the true Heaven seem to close against me pass ever before. At first, their words trouble me, but one voice inside me whisper: ‘Yes, na love make you dey look towards Heaven. Since your soul don surrender completely to love, all your actions, even the ones wey seem no matter at all, carry this divine seal.’ At once, comfort enter my heart.”
Even with the darkness wey surround am, sometimes im Divine Saviour leave the door of im prison open small. For those moments, trust and love go fill im soul sotey e go lose imself inside them. Na so, one day, as e dey walk for garden with one of im own sisters dey support am, e stop when e see the lovely sight of one hen wey cover im fine little chicks under im wing. Tears fill im eyes, and e turn to the person wey dey with am, talk say: “I no fit stay here again, make we go inside!” Even when e reach im small room, tears still dey fall from im eyes, and some time pass before e fit talk. At last, e look im sister with one heavenly look for face, and talk say: “I dey think of Our Lord, and the beautiful comparison wey He choose to make us understand His tenderness wey words no fit describe. Na this He don do for me all the days of my life. He don hide me completely under His Wing. I no fit express everything wey just move my heart; e good for me say God dey hide Himself, and only once in a long while He dey let me see wetin His Mercy dey do, as if na from ‘behind the lattices.’ If no be so, I no go ever fit bear this kind sweetness.”
. . . . . . .
As the thought say dem go lose their treasure leave them without comfort, the Community begin one novena to Our Lady of Victories on June 5, 1897, with strong hope say she go once again miraculously raise the Little Flower wey don dey wither. But her answer na the same as the one wey the blessed Martyr, Théophane Vénard, give, and dem no get choice but to accept with generous hearts the bitterness of the separation wey dey come.
For the beginning of July, her condition come serious well-well, and dem finally carry am go the ward for sick people. When Mother Agnes of Jesus see her empty room, and know say e no go ever return there, e tell am: “When you no dey with us again, my heart go pain me well-well whenever I look this room!”
“To console yourself, small Mother, you fit think of how happy I dey up there, and remember say na inside that small room I gain plenty of my happiness; because,” e add, as e raise her beautiful eyes look Heaven, “I don suffer so much for there, and I for happy to die there.”
As e enter the ward for sick people, e look towards the miraculous statue of Our Lady wey dem don bring there. Nobody fit describe that look. “Wetin you dey see?” her sister Marie ask; na Marie witness the miracle wey heal am when e be pikin. And Thérèse answer: “I never see am so beautiful like this before . . . but today, na the statue I dey see, while that other day, as you know well, no be the statue!” And from that time, e often receive consolation like this.
One evening, e cry out: “Oh, how I love Our Blessed Lady! If I be Priest, I for sing her praises well-well! People dey talk about am as person wey nobody fit approach, but dem suppose show am as person wey easy to imitate. . . . E be Mother pass as e be Queen. I don hear people talk say her splendour dey cover the splendour of all the Saints, just as the sun wey dey rise dey make all the stars disappear. This one sound strange well-well. How Mother go take away her children glory! Me, I think the opposite. I believe say e go make the splendour of the people wey God don choose increase well-well . . . Mary, our Mother! Oh! Her life go don simple well-well!” As e continue to talk, e describe the Holy Family in one sweet and delightful way wey make everybody wey dey there full of wonder.
One very heavy cross dey wait for am before e go join her Bridegroom. From August 16 to September 30, the happy day wey e die, e no fit receive Holy Communion because her sickness no stop. People wey don hunger for the Bread of Angels like this seraph for earth no plenty. Again and again, during that last winter of her life, after nights of pain wey person no fit bear, e go wake early morning to receive the Manna of Heaven. To am, no price too heavy to pay for the great joy of feeding on God. Before Our Lord allow am to go without this Heavenly Food completely, E often visit am for her bed of pain. The Communion wey e receive on July 16, the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, touch heart in one special way. During the night before, e compose some verses wey dem go sing before Communion.
You know how lowly my soul be, O Lord, Yet You no fear to bend low and enter me. Come into my heart, O Sacrament wey I dey adore! Come into my heart . . . na only You e dey long for! And when You come, let me die at once From the great love wey I get for You; grant me this favour! Oh, Jesus, hear my humble cry: Come into my heart!
For morning, when dem carry the Holy Viaticum go the ward for sick people, dem don spread plenty wild flowers and rose petals for the passages around the convent courtyard. One young Priest, wey dey about to celebrate his first Mass that day for the Chapel of the Carmel, carry the Blessed Sacrament go meet the Sister wey dey die; and as e request, Sister Mary of the Eucharist—wey her voice sweet in one special way—sing these lines:
Martyrdom wey sweet! To die from the fierce fire of love:
Na this martyrdom my heart dey long for!
Make una hurry, Cherubim, tune una lyre;
I no go stay long again for this pain of exile!
. . . . . . .
Make my dream come true, O Jesus, as I dey sigh
To die from love!
Some days later, Thérèse condition come worse, and on July 30, e receive Extreme Unction. This small Victim of Love, wey joy dey shine for her face, tell us: “The door of my dark prison don open small. Joy don fill my whole being, especially as our Father Superior don assure me say today my soul be like the soul of small pikin after Baptism.”
No doubt, e think say e go soon join the group of the Holy Innocents wey wear white robes. E hardly know say two long months of martyrdom still remain for am to pass through. “Dear Mother,” e talk, “I dey beg you, allow me to die. Make I offer my life for this particular intention”—and e tell the Prioress the intention. When dem no give am permission, e reply: “Well, I know say just now, Our Lord dey long so much for one tiny bunch of grapes—which nobody go give Am—that E no go get choice but to come steal am. . . . I no dey ask for anything; to do so go mean say I don leave my path of surrendering myself. I only dey beg Our Lady make e remind her Jesus of the title of Thief, wey E give Himself for the Gospels, so that E no go forget to come carry me away.”
. . . . . . .
One day, Sister Thérèse take one head of corn from one bundle wey dem bring come give her. The grain wey full am plenty so tey e bend for im stalk. After she don look am for some time, she tell Mother Prioress: “Mother, that head of corn na picture of my soul. God don load am with graces for me and for plenty other people. And wetin I want pass na to always bow under the weight of God’s gifts, as I dey acknowledge say everything come from Him.”
She talk true. Her soul really full with graces, and e easy to recognise say na the Spirit of God dey speak His praises through the mouth of that innocent child.
No be this same Spirit of Truth don already give the great Teresa of Avila these words to write:
“Make those souls wey don reach perfect union with God value themselves well, with confidence wey humble and holy. Make dem always remember the good things wey dem don receive, and make dem careful no think say dem dey practise humility when dem no acknowledge the gifts of God. E no clear say, as person dey always remember the gifts wey dem give am, e dey make im love for the giver grow? How person wey no acknowledge the riches wey e get go fit use them freely for other people?”
But that one no be the only time wey the “little Thérèse of Lisieux”[8] talk words wey later show say dem be prophecy. For the month of April, 1895, when her health still dey very good, she tell one of the older nuns for private: “I go soon die. I no dey talk say na for a few months, but e no go pass two or three years; I know this because of wetin dey happen for my soul.”
The novices show surprise when she know their deepest thoughts. She tell dem: “Na this be my secret: I no dey ever correct una without first calling on Our Blessed Lady and asking her to guide me on wetin go help una pass. And many times, the things wey I teach una dey surprise even me. For those times, I dey feel say I no dey make mistake, and say na Jesus dey speak through my lips.”
During her sickness, one of her sisters suffer some moments of deep sorrow, wey nearly make her lose courage, as she think about how dem must part. Immediately after, she go the sickroom, but she take care make no sign of sorrow show. She really surprise when Thérèse talk to her with sad and serious voice: “We no suppose cry like people wey no get hope.”
One of the Mothers come visit her and do one small thing to help her. The Mother think: “I for happy well-well if only this Angel go talk say: ‘I go repay you for Heaven!'” That same moment, Sister Thérèse turn face her and talk: “Mother, I go repay you for Heaven!”
But wetin surprise us pass all na how she know the mission wey Our Lord don choose her for. E be like say the veil wey cover the future don lift, and more than once she reveal im secrets to us, through prophecies wey don already come true.
“I never give the Good God anything apart from love; na with Love
He go repay me.
AFTER MY DEATH, I GO MAKE ROSES FALL LIKE RAIN.”
Another time, as one Sister dey tell her about the happiness of Heaven, she cut in with these deep words: “No be that one dey draw me.”
“Then wetin dey draw you?” the other Sister ask. “Oh! Na Love! To love, make dem love me, and to come back to earth to win love for the One wey be our Love!”
One evening, she welcome Mother Agnes of Jesus with joy wey show for her face in one special way: “Mother!” she talk, “I just hear some music from one concert far away, and e make me think say soon I go dey listen to the wonderful melodies of Paradise. But that thought give me joy for only one moment—na only one hope dey make my heart beat fast: the Love wey I go receive and the Love wey I go fit give!
“I dey feel say my mission go soon start—my mission to make other people love God as I love Him . . . to teach souls my little way . . .
I GO USE MY TIME FOR HEAVEN TO DEY DO GOOD FOR EARTH.
And this one no be something wey no fit happen, since even as the Angels dey see God face to face for the Beatific Vision, dem still dey watch over us. No, I no go fit rest until the end of the world. But when the Angel don talk say: ‘Time no dey again!’ then I go rest, then I go fit rejoice, because the number of the people wey God don choose go don complete.”
“And wetin be this little way wey you want teach souls?”
“NA THE WAY OF BEING LIKE SMALL PIKIN FOR SPIRITUAL LIFE, THE WAY OF TRUST AND OF SURRENDERING YOURSELF COMPLETELY TO GOD.
I wan show dem the way wey I don always find say dey work perfectly, and tell dem say na only one thing we get to do for this earth: we must offer Jesus the flowers of small sacrificesand win His heart with tender touch. Na so I take win His heart, and na why dem go welcome me so well.”
“If I lead you go wrong way through my small way of love,” she tell one novice, “no fear say I go allow you continue for that way; I go soon come back to earth, and tell you make you take another road. If I no return, then believe say these words wey I talk na true: Our trust for the Good God no fit ever too much; He get power well-well, and His mercy plenty. Na as we put hope for Him, na so we go receive.”
For the evening before the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, one novice tell her: “I think say if you die tomorrow after Holy Communion, I go really get comfort—it go be such fine death!” Thérèse answer sharp-sharp: “Die after Holy Communion! For one great feast day! No, no be so. For my ‘small way,’ everything na ordinary thing; small souls must fit do everything wey I dey do too.”
And she write to one of her missionary brothers: “Wetin dey draw me go my Home for Heaven na my Lord wey dey call me, together with the hope say, at last, I go love Him as my heart desire, and I go fit make plenty souls love Him, souls wey go bless Him throughout eternity.”
And for another letter wey she send go China: “I trust fully say I no go stay for Heaven without anything to do; my desire na to continue my work for the Church and for souls. I dey ask God for this, and I dey sure say He go hear my prayer. You see say if I leave the battlefield so soon, no be because I selfishly desire to rest. For long time now, suffering don be my Heaven here for earth, and I hardly fit imagine how I go take get used to one land where sorrow no mix with joy at all. Jesus go surely need to change my soul completely—if not, I no go ever fit bear the joy wey dey carry person beyond imself for Paradise.”
Na true well-well, suffering don become her Heaven for earth—she dey welcome am as we dey welcome happiness. “When I suffer plenty,” she go talk, “when something wey dey pain me or wey I no like happen to me, instead of sad face, I dey answer with smile. For beginning, I no always succeed, but now e don become habit wey I glad say I don learn.”
One Sister get doubt about Thérèse patience. One day, as she visit her, she talk say the sick Sister face show joy wey no be of this world, and she wan know the reason. “Na because the pain sharp well-well just now,” Thérèse answer; “I don always force myself to love suffering and welcome am with joy.” “Why you dey so cheerful this morning?” Mother Agnes of Jesus ask. “Na because of two small crosses. Nothing dey give me ‘small joys’ like ‘small crosses.'” And another time: “You don face plenty trials today?” “Yes, but I love dem! . . . I love everything wey the Good God send me!” “Your sufferings terrible!” “No—dem no terrible: anything wey her Spouse send fit be terrible for one small soul wey be sacrifice of Love? Every moment, He dey send me wetin I fit bear, and nothing more, and if He increase the pain, my strength dey increase too. But I no go ever fit ask for greater sufferings—my soul too small. Then na sufferings wey I choose by myself dem go be. I go need to bear all of dem without Him, and I never fit do anything when dem leave me to myself.”
Na so that wise Virgin wey get good judgement talk for her deathbed, and her lamp, wey the oil of virtue fill reach the brim, burn bright till the end. If, as the Holy Spirit remind us for the Book of Proverbs: “Na person patience dey prove im teaching,”[9] those wey don hear her fit well believe her teaching, because she don prove am with patience wey no trial fit overcome.
Any time wey doctor come visit, e dey talk how e admire her. “If only una know wetin she dey endure! I never see anybody wey suffer reach like this, still get this kind joy wey come from God for face. . . . I no go fit cure her; no be for this earth God make her.” As she don weak well-well, e prescribe some medicine wey go give her strength. At first, Thérèse worry because of how much dem cost, but later she admit say: “I no dey worry again say I need to take those costly medicine, because I don read say when dem give St. Gertrude this kind medicine, she happy as she think say e go bring good to the people wey dey help us, since Our Lord Himself don talk say: ‘Anything wey una do for the least among My little ones, na for Me una do am.'”[10] She add say: “I dey sure say medicine no get power to cure me, but I don make covenant with God say make the poor missionaries wey no get time or means to take care of themselves benefit from am.”
The flowers wey her friends outside the Convent dey always send her touch her heart well-well. The visits of one sweet little bird wey get red chest, wey like to play round her bed, touch her heart too. She see God’s Hand for all these things. “Mother, all these many signs of God’s Love for me dey touch me deep for heart. Dem plenty sotey I no fit count them . . . but still, I continue to dey inside darkness wey deep well-well! . . . I dey suffer plenty . . . plenty well-well! and yet, deep peace dey inside me. Everything wey I don long for don happen . . . My heart full of confidence.”
Small time after, she tell me this small thing wey happen, wey touch her heart: “One evening, during the ‘Great Silence,’ the Sister wey dey care for sick people bring bottle of hot water for my feet, and rub tincture of iodine for my chest. Fever dey burn my body, and thirst don dry me well-well. As I dey allow them give me these treatments, I no fit hold myself from telling Our Lord: ‘My Jesus, You dey see say my body don dey burn already, and dem don bring more heat and fire come give me. Oh! if dem bring even half glass of water, e for comfort me well-well! . . . My Jesus! Your little pikin dey thirsty well-well. But she happy say she get this chance to resemble You more, and so help You save souls.’ The Sister soon leave me, and I no expect to see her again until the next morning. I surprise well-well when she come back after few minutes with drink wey go refresh me! She talk say, ‘E just enter my mind say you fit dey thirsty, so I go dey bring you something every evening.’ I look her with surprise, and when only me remain again, I burst into tears. Oh! Jesus good well-well! E gentle, and E full of love! E easy well-well to reach His Heart!”
. . . . . . .
On September 6, the little Bride of Jesus receive one sign wey touch her heart, wey show how His Sacred Heart dey think of her with love. Many times, she don talk say she wish to get relic of her special patron, the Venerable Théophane Vénard. But as she no get wetin she want, she no talk about am again. So, feeling fill her heart well-well when Mother Prioress bring the treasure wey she don long for—wey dem receive that same day. She kiss am again and again, and she no gree part with am.
Person fit ask why she get this kind devotion to this young Martyr. She herself explain the reason as she dey talk with her own sisters with love: “Théophane Vénard na little saint; nothing extraordinary mark his life. E get strong devotion to Our Immaculate Mother, and e love im own family with tender love.” As she think more about these words, she add say: “And me too, I love my family with tender love; I no fit understand those Saints wey no share this feeling with me. As gift to leave with una as I dey go, I don copy some passages from the last letters wey e send go house. Im soul and my own resemble each other for many ways, and im words just dey echo wetin dey my mind.”
We put copy of that letter here; person fit even believe say na Thérèse herself write am:
“I no fit find anything for earth wey fit make me truly happy; wetin my heart dey desire big well-well, and nothing wey the world dey call happiness fit satisfy am. Soon, time no go dey again for me; my mind don fix on Eternity. My heart full of peace, like lake wey calm or sky wey no get cloud. I no regret this life for earth. I dey thirst for the waters of Life Eternal.
“Na small time remain, my soul go don leave this earth, finish her time for exile, and finish her battle. I dey go Heaven. I dey about to enter the Place where the Blessed Ones Dey Live—to see wetin eye never see, to hear wetin ear never hear, to enjoy those things wey human heart never imagine . . . I don reach the hour wey all of us dey long for so much. Na true say Our Lord dey choose the small ones to put the great ones of this earth to shame. I no depend on my own strength, but on Him wey defeat the powers of hell for the Cross.
“I be flower of spring wey the Divine Master pluck for His own pleasure. All of us na flowers wey dem plant for this earth, and God go gather us for His own right time—some early, some later . . . Me, small flower wey last only one day, na me be the first wey He gather! But we go meet again for Paradise, where joy wey go last go be our portion.
“Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus, wey dey use the words of the martyr wey be like angel—Théophane Vénard.”
Towards the end of September, dem repeat something to her wey somebody talk during recreation, about the responsibility of those wey dey care for souls. She come be like person wey regain small strength, and she talk these beautiful words: “Na the person wey be small dem dey show mercy.[11] Person fit remain small even for position wey carry the greatest responsibility. And dem no write say, for the last day, ‘the Lord go rise to save the gentle and humble ones of the earth’?[12] He no talk say ‘to judge,’ but ‘to save!'”
As time dey pass, her suffering dey increase more and more, and she become so weak that she no fit move even small without help. Even to hear anybody whisper dey make her discomfort worse; and the fever and heavy distress too much so that na with very great difficulty she fit talk one word. Still, gentle smile always dey her lips. The only thing wey she dey fear na to give her Sisters any extra trouble, and until two days before she die, she no ever allow anybody stay with her for night. But even as she dey beg make nobody stay, the Sister wey dey care for the sick dey visit her from time to time. One time, she meet Thérèse with her hands joined together and her eyes raised to Heaven. “Wetin you dey do?” she ask; “you suppose try sleep.” “I no fit, Sister, I dey suffer too much, so I dey pray. . . .” “And wetin you dey tell Jesus?” “I no dey talk anything—I just dey love Him!”
“Oh! God good so much!” . . . na so she dey sometimes cry out. “Truly, He must really good to give me strength to bear everything wey I must suffer.” One day she tell the Mother Prioress: “Mother, I go like make you know how my soul dey; but I no fit, everything don overwhelm me too much now.” For evening, Thérèse send her these words, wey she write with pencil as her hand dey shake:
“O my God! You good so much to this small one wey be sacrifice to Your Merciful Love! Now, even when You join these pains for my body to the pains of my soul, I still no fit bring myself to talk say: ‘The anguish of death don surround me.'[13] Instead, with gratitude, I dey cry out: ‘I don go down into the valley of the shadow of death, but I no fear any evil, because You, O Lord, dey with me.'”[14]
Her small Mother tell her: “Some people think say you dey fear death.” She answer: “That one fit easily happen. I no depend on my own feelings, because I know how weak I be. If that cross come, time go still dey to carry am; for now, I want rejoice for the happiness wey I get now. When the Chaplain ask me whether I don accept to die, I answer: ‘Father, wetin I need na rather to accept to live—na only joy I dey feel when I think about death.’ No let your heart worry, dear Mother, if I suffer plenty and no show any sign of happiness for the end. No be Our Lord Himself die as ‘Sacrifice of Love,’ and see how great His Agony be!”
. . . . . . .
At last, the eternal day dawn. Na Thursday, September 30, 1897. For morning, the gentle one wey be sacrifice, with her eyes fixed on Our Lady’s statue, talk like this about her last night for earth: “Oh! See how earnestly I pray to her! . . . Still, na only agony, without even small light of comfort. . . . The air of this earth no dey sustain me again: when I go breathe the air of Heaven?”
For many weeks, she no fit raise herself for bed, but for half-past two for afternoon, she sit up come talk with strong feeling: “Dear Mother, the chalice don full sotey e dey overflow! I no for ever believe say person fit suffer reach like this. . . . The only way I fit explain am na this strong desire wey I get to save souls. . . .” Small time after, she talk: “Yes, everything wey I don write about how I dey thirst for suffering na true! I no regret say I surrender myself to Love.”
She repeat these last words many times. Small time later, she add: “Mother, prepare me make I die well.” The good Mother Prioress encourage her with these words: “My pikin, you don ready well to appear before God, because you don always understand the virtue of humility.” Then, with words wey touch heart, Thérèse give this testimony about herself:
“Yes, I dey feel am; my soul don always dey seek the truth. . . . I don understand wetin e mean to get humble heart!”
. . . . . . .
For half-past four, her pain of death begin—the pain of this “Sacrifice of Love wey come from God.” When the Community gather round her, she thank them with smile wey sweet well-well. Then, as she surrender herself completely to love and suffering, with the Crucifix held tight for her hands wey strength don dey leave, she enter the final battle. Sweat of death cover her forehead plenty . . . she dey tremble . . . but just as person wey dey steer ship no dey lose heart because of strong storm when harbour don near, so this soul, wey stand strong for faith, see the guiding lights of Heaven near her, and she bravely use all her strength to reach the shore.
As the convent bells dey ring the evening Angelus, e fix im eyes on the statue of the Immaculate Virgin, the Star of the Sea, with one look wey words no fit describe. No be the time don reach to repeat im beautiful prayer:
“O You wey come smile on me for the morning of my life, come again come smile, Mother, because evening don reach now!”[15]
Few minutes after seven, the poor little Martyr turn to the Prioress come ask: “Mother, no be the pain of death be this? . . . I no go die?” “Yes, my pikin, na the pain of death, but maybe Jesus want make e continue for some hours.” With sweet voice wey carry sorrow, she answer: “Ah, e good like that then . . . e good . . . I no want make my suffering reduce!”
Then, as e look im crucifix:
“Oh! . . . I love Him! . . . My God, I . . . love . . . You!”
Na these be im last words. E just finish to talk dem when, to our great surprise, e suddenly sink down, with im head bend small to the right, like the Virgin Martyrs wey dey offer themselves to the sword; or rather, like Sacrifice of Love, wey dey wait for the burning arrow from the Divine Archer, the arrow wey e long to take die.
Suddenly, she raise herself, as if one mysterious voice call her; she open her eyes, wey shine with happiness and peace wey mouth no fit describe, and fix her gaze small above the statue of Our Lady. She remain like that for about the time wey e go take to pray one Credo, then her blessed soul, wey don now become the prey of the “Divine Eagle,” was carried go the heights of Heaven.
. . . . . . .
Few days before her death, this little Saint don talk: “The death of Love wey I desire so much na the death of Jesus for the Cross.” God answer her prayer completely. Darkness surround her, and deep anguish fill her soul. Yet, we no fit still apply to her that great prophecy of St. John of the Cross about souls wey the fire of God’s Love don consume: “Dem die as Sacrifices under the powerful attacks of Love, inside ecstasy wey full of joy—like the swan, wey im song dey sweet more as death dey near. Na why the Psalmist declare: ‘The death of His Saints dey precious for the Lord eye.'[16] Because na then rivers of love dey burst out from the soul and flow enter the Ocean of God’s Love, wey swallow them up.”
As soon as im spotless soul fly go, the joy of that last ecstasy show for im forehead, and one bright smile light up im face. We put palm branch for im hand; and the lilies and roses wey decorate am for death be signs of im white baptism robe wey im Martyrdom of Love don turn red.
For the Saturday and Sunday, plenty people pass for front of the iron bars of the nuns’ chapel to look the dead body of the “Little Flower of Jesus.” Dem bring hundreds of medals and rosaries make dem touch the “Little Queen” as she lie down for the victorious beauty of her last sleep.
. . . . . . .
On October 4, the day of the funeral, plenty Priests gather for the Chapel of the Carmel. Surely, this honour fit the person wey don pray so earnestly for those wey God call to that sacred office. After one last solemn blessing, the hands of Holy Mother Church place this grain of wheat wey precious pass wetin money fit buy inside the furrow.
Who fit tell how many ripe heads of grain don grow since then, or how many bundles of grain still dey come? “Amen, amen, I dey tell una, unless grain of wheat fall enter ground come die, e go remain alone. But if e die, e go bear plenty fruit.”[17] Once again, the word of the Divine Harvester don come true in a wonderful way.
THE PRIORESS OF CARMEL. _____________________________
[1] Dom Guéranger.
[2] Mother Mary of Gonzaga die Dec. 17, 1904, when she dey 71 years old. Mother Agnes of Jesus (Pauline) na the Prioress that time. Mother Mary of Gonzaga—wey she herself come from the family line of St. Antony of Padua—recognize for Sister Thérèse “one heroic soul, wey holiness full, and wey fit become excellent Prioress one day.” With this aim for mind, she train her strictly, and the young Saint thank her well-well for am. Na for Mother Mary of Gonzaga arms dem welcome the “Little Flower of Jesus” enter Carmel, and na for those same arms she die—”happy,” as she talk, “say for that hour, no be her ‘little Mother’ be her Superioress, so that she go fit better exercise her spirit of faith for authority.” [Editor]
[3] As una go remember, na Marie, her eldest sister, be this. [Editor]
[4] Dem born Blessed Théophane Vénard for St. Loup, inside di diocese of Poitiers, for di Feast of di Presentation of Our Lady, Nov. 21, 1829. Dem kill am as martyr for Kecho, Tong-King, for di Feast of di Presentation of Our Lord, Feb. 2, 1861, when e dey 32 years old. Di plenty sweet letters wey e and im family write to each other, wey start when e dey college and end from im “cage” for Kecho, show say di two “flowers wey dey bloom for spring” resemble each other for their love of poetry, holy life and love for home. Di beauty of im soul show so well for im young-looking face sotey dem no torture am at all during di two months wey e spend inside di “cage.” For 1909, di year wey Thérèse become “Servant of God” as di Episcopal Process begin, her patron receive di honours of Beatification. Another pikin of France—Joan, di country “Martyr-Maiden”—wey di Saints of St. Loup and Lisieux don praise with poems full of love, receive Beatification for dat same year. [Editor]
[5] Dis dey refer to di death notice wey dem dey send to each Carmelite convent for France whenever one Carmelite nun die for dat country. For those wey die with reputation for holy life, these notices fit long well-well sometimes. Four notices wey come from di Carmel of Lisieux dey of great interest to people wey dey seek Soeur Thérèse intercession, and Orphans’ Press, Rochdale, dey publish dem. Na di notices of di Carmel Foundress wey live holy life, Mother Genevieve of St. Teresa, wey Chapter VIII mention her death; Mother Mary of Gonzaga, wey be Thérèse Prioress; Sister Mary of the Eucharist (Marie Guérin), wey be Thérèse cousin (Chapter III); and di one wey get di most interest among all of dem, di long account of Mother Mary of St. Angelus (Marie Ange), wey she write part of her own life story inside. Na she be di “trophy of Thérèse,” wey come to di Carmel for 1902 through Thérèse intercession—na there di writer meet am for di spring wey follow. She become Prioress for 1908, and she die eighteen months later with reputation for holy life, when she dey only 28 years old. [Editor]
[6] Compare with Job 13:15.
[7] John 3:34.
[8] Before she die, when dem ask am how dem suppose pray to am for Heaven, Soeur Thérèse answer with her usual simple way: “Una go call me ‘Small Thérèse’—small Thérèse.” And for Gallipoli, when she appear for di Carmel there, di appearance wey later become well-known, di Prioress think say na St. Teresa of Avila and call am “our holy Mother.” Di visitor use di official title wey she get dat time answer:—”No, I no be our holy Mother, na me be di Servant of God, Soeur Thérèse of Lisieux.” For dis edition, we don keep dis her own name, Soeur Thérèse, except for places where e better to write her full name—Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and of the Holy Face. Di name “Small Flower,” wey she borrow from Blessed Théophane Vénard and use plenty times for di pages of her handwritten work, na di name wey people know am pass for countries wey dey speak English. [Editor]
[9] Compare with Prov. 19:11.
[10] Matt. 25:49.
[11] Wisdom 6:7.
[12] Compare with Ps. 75[76]:10.
[13] Compare with Ps. 17[18]:5.
[14] Compare with Ps. 22[23]:4.
[15] From di last poem wey Soeur Thérèse write.
[16] Ps. 115[116]:15.
[17] John 12:24, 25.
List of Wetin Dey Inside Tori of One Soul
List of Wetin Dey Inside Wetin Saint Thérèse Teach: Di Wisdom of God’s Small Flower