St Therese: Chapter III

• School
• A painful separation
• A strange illness
• The Queen of Heaven's smile

The Lord has stretched forth his hand, he has delivered me from my terrible enemy. He has saved because he was well-pleased with me. [Based on Psalm XVIII]

Therese started school when she was eight and a half years old. All the other girls were older but she was nearly always top of the class. She was very affected by the departure of her 'little mother', her big sister Marie, to become a cloistered Carmelite nun.

Excerpts

I sought the company of  my  little  cousin  Marie,  because  she  left  me  free  to  choose  the  games  I
liked best. We were already closely united in heart and will, as if God were showing  us  in  advance  how  one  day  in  the  Carmel  we  should  embrace  the same religious life.
Very  often,  at  my  uncle's  house,  we  used  to  play  at  being  two  austere hermits, with only a poor hut, a little patch of corn, and a garden in which to grow a few vegetables. Our life was to be spent in continual contemplation, one  praying  while  the  other  engaged  in  active  duties.  All  was  done  with religious  gravity  and  decorum.  If  we  went  out,  the  make-believe  continued even in the street; the two hermits would say the Rosary, using their fingers to count on, so as not to display their devotion before those who might scoff.
One day, however, the hermit Thérèse forgot herself—before eating a cake, given  her  for  lunch, she  made a  large  Sign of  the  Cross,  and  some worldly folk did not repress a smile.

Towards the end of 1882, when she was nine years old, Therese started to suffer from persistent headaches which eventually became acute.

I do not know how to describe this extraordinary illness. I said things which I  had  never  thought  of;  I  acted  as  though  I  were  forced  to  act  in  spite  of myself;  I  seemed  nearly always  to  be  delirious; and  yet  I  feel  certain  that  I was never, for a minute, deprived of my reason. Sometimes I remained in a state  of  extreme  exhaustion  for  hours  together,  unable  to  make  the  least movement,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  this  extraordinary  torpor,  hearing  the  least whisper. I remember  it still. And what fears the devil inspired! I was afraid of everything; my bed seemed to be surrounded by frightful precipices; nails in  the  wall  took  the  terrifying  appearance  of  long  fingers, shrivelled  and blackened with fire, making me cry out in terror.

...finding  no  help  on  earth  and  nearly  dead  with pain,  turned  to  my  Heavenly  Mother,  begging  her  from  the  bottom  of  my heart  to  have  pity  on  me.  Suddenly  the  statue  seemed  to  come  to  life  and grow beautiful, with a divine beauty that I shall never find words to describe.
The   expression   of   Our   Lady's   face   was   ineffably  sweet,   tender, and compassionate; but what touched me to the very depths of my soul was her gracious smile. Then, all my pain vanished, two big tears started to my eyes and fell silently. . . .
They  were  indeed  tears  of  unmixed  heavenly  joy.  "Our  Blessed Lady has come to me, she has smiled at me. How happy I am, but I shall tell no one, or my happiness will leave me!" Such were my thoughts. Looking around, I recognised Marie; she seemed very much overcome, and looked lovingly at me, as though she guessed that I had just received a great grace.
Indeed her prayers had gained me this unspeakable favour—a smile from the Blessed Virgin! When she saw me with my eyes fixed on the statue, she said to herself: "Thérèse is cured!" And it was true. The Little Flower had come to life again—a bright ray from its glorious Sun had warmed and set it free for ever from its cruel enemy. "The dark winter is past, the rain is over and gone," and Our Lady's Little Flower gathered such strength that five years later it opened wide its petals on the fertile mountain of Carmel.