"I am only a very little soul, who can only offer very little things to our Lord."
A Camelite mystic - one who has fallen in love with God - said that while she lived between 1873 and 1897 in Lisieux, a small town in Normandy.
Her mom died when she was four. Therese and her four older sisters were left in the care of their dad, a watchmaker and a man of marked piety.
Having lived less than three decades, she died of tuberculosis. Today is her feast.
Therese was canonized a saint. She considered herself of little account, literally, a little flower that fades fast, as she did at 23. She felt the call to be a priest, a warrior, an apostle, a Doctor of the Church, and a martyr.
My vocation is charity, she taught.
Her roots and relationships with God and people help me live truths that get me through:
Faith is the ability to refrain from panic.
If I worry, I probably failed to pray or connect with the Maker. When I pray I don't worry.
God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.
When there's a problem: It's me.
Growing up is optional, while growing old is inevitable.
My toys, books, and Bible will not go with me when I die. No u-haul to heaven.
I've learned to care more about my character than my reputation.
Finally, like others, I sit on my pity pot every now and then. I remind myself to flush when done, nevertheless.