Our Lord is always ready to give us the grace necessary to overcome temptation, but He wants us to ask Him for it, and He has promised that we shall obtain all we need if only we pray earnestly.

Therese loved to say her prayers.  When she was still quite a baby her mother had no trouble in making her join her little hands and offer her heart to God as soon as she awoke.  She often asked to be taken to church, and would beg so hard that they were obliged to grant her request.  She would not go to sleep without having once more asked God’s blessing in a prayer which her mother had taught her.

One evening, however, she fell asleep without saying it, but, waking in the middle of the night, she at once called to her mother:

“Mamma, Mamma!  I haven’t said my prayer!  I want to say my prayer.”

“Go to sleep, darling,” said her mother; “you shall say it tomorrow.”

But tomorrow’s prayer would be tomorrow’s prayer, and Therese must say today’s prayer.  She went on imploring so piteously that her mother gave in, fearing that otherwise she would not go to sleep again.

One feast day it happened that the nurse did not take her to church during the afternoon walk.  The child did not notice this until she reached home again, but then she burst into tears, saying that she wanted “to go to Mass.”  She escaped from nurse, opened the front door, and ran out in the pouring rain towards the church.  The nurse hurried after her and brought her back, but the poor baby cried for a whole hour, and could not be consoled.

She realized so vividly the meaning of prayer that when her parents went to Mass, and she was left at home, she tried to be quiet all the time, creeping about on tiptoe.  As soon, however, as the door opened on their return, there was a tremendous outburst of joy.

The heart of Therese turned to God as instinctively as a flower to the sun.

While still a tiny child, she used to recite a certain piece of poetry with such expression that she was always being made to say it.  Her smile was almost angelic when with uplifted eyes and her little hand raise, she repeated the last line:

“Dear little child with golden hair,

Where do you think is the God of love?

All over the world and everywhere,

And waiting for us in His Heaven above.”

Heaven was indeed the place to which all her thoughts tended.  God gave her a special grace to realize that all imaginable happiness and joy are there, and there only shall we be fully satisfied.

This accounts for a remark which certainly sounded strange in the mouth of such an affectionate child:

“Oh, Mamma darling!” she once exclaimed, “I do wish you would die!”

At this startling declaration everyone was horrified, but poor little Therese could not understand why she should be scolded.  Her eyes filled with tears as she explained:

“It is because I want you to go to Heaven, and you said we must die to get there.”

She loved her father and mother so much that she felt she could wish them nothing better than this.  Her father did not mind this strange way of being loved.  He was particularly fond of his youngest child, and when Madame Martin used laughingly to reprove him for spoiling her, he would answer:

“Well, why not?  She is the Queen!”
         
The notice which everyone paid her might easily have made Therese wilful and exacting, even vain. But if she was occasionally naughty, far from excusing herself, she immediately acknowledged her fault and said she was sorry.

One day, for instance, she was on the swing, when her father called her to come and give him a kiss.  she ought to have got off directly, but she would not stir, and answered pertly:

"Come and get it yourself, Papa!"

Her father paid no attention to her, but Marie's displeasure showed her she had been naughty.  She was sorry at once, and with repentant sobs ran after her father and flung her arms round his neck, begging to be forgiven. 

Another time she behaved in very much the same way to her mother.

One morning, before going downstairs, Madame Martin went to kiss her, but Therese, who had woke up cross, was pretending to be asleep, and immediately buried her head under the bedclothes.

I don't want anyone to look at me," she said peevishly.

Her mother told her she was not pleased, and went away.

A few minutes later, whom should she see at her side but Therese!  The child managed to climb out of her cot, and stumbling over her long nightdress, had come downstairs barefooted.  Her face was wet with tears.

"Mamma," she sobbed, holding out her arms to her mother, "please forgive naughty Therese!  I will be good, because I want to be with the little angles in Heaven."

And her mother, knowing that she was really sorry, took her on her knee and comforted her.

Once Therese accidentally tore off a small piece of wallpaper.  She was much distressed, because she knew how particular her father was about the order of the house.  He happened just then to be out.  Another child might have been glad to escape notice, and on being questioned might perhaps even have told an untruth.  But Therese was too straightforward for this.  When her father came home four hours later, and everyone else had forgotten the little mishap, she at once whispered to Marie:

"Tell Papa that I tore the paper."

And then she stood like a criminal awaiting condemnation, till her father told her he was not angry with her.

A printable file of this chapter can be found below as well as a coloring picture.

    Little Therese, having been so long in the country, took some time getting used to the town.  She would scream loudly when fashionably dressed ladies came near her, and if they wanted to take her in their arms they had first to remove the offending hat, because she had a special dislike for hats.  She kept her smiles for people dressed like her peasant friends.

    But soon she became at home, and all her love centered on her mother.  She followed her about everywhere, in the house and in the garden, and never liked to be parted from her.  She would not even go upstairs alone without stopping on each step and calling: “Mamma”; and if her mother did not answer immediately, “Yes, darling,” she would refuse to move.

    Once, when her mother was telling her how God rewards good children, and how, in spite of His kindness, He is obliged to punish the naughty ones, Therese answered:

     “I know what I should do if I had been naughty!  I would hide myself in your rams, and you would hold me so tight that God would not be able to take me from you.”

    She seemed so convinced that she would be safe from punishment if she took refuge with her mother that Madame Martin’s thoughts turned to Our Blessed Lady, and she resolved to inspire the child with a great love and trust for her Heavenly Mother. 

    Therese had such an affectionate nature that she could not bear to think she had caused her parents the least pain, not would she be parted, even for a short time, from those she loved.  Marie used to give Celine lessons, but she would not let Therese stay in the room, fearing this would distract her pupil.  The little one, however, begged so hard to be with Celine, and promised so earnestly to be good, that at last she was allowed to come.  Marie gave her beads to thread and some pieces of stuff to sew, and she sat on a little stool as quiet as a mouse.  If her needle came unthreaded, she did not say a word, but big tears would fall silently until Marie came to the rescue and made her happy by rethreading the needle.

     She did not enjoy any treat which she could not share with Celine.  Once, when she was only two or three, she went to see her aunt, a Visitation nun, who gave her a pretty basket full of sweets decorated with two sugar rings.  Therese immediately decided that one of these rings must be fore Celine, and was full of delight at the thought of giving it to her when she got home.  But alas! on the way, she upset all the sweets, and the precious rings were lost.  Bitter lamentations followed, because she had, after all, no present for her sister.

    While Therese was away in the country, Madame Martin constantly recommended her to the protection of her Guardian Angel.  He gave proof of his watching care after his little charge had returned home.

    One morning Madame Martin had gone out, according to her custom, to hear an early Mass, leaving her baby daughter, then only fifteen months old, fast asleep in her cot.  What was her astonishment on her return to find the child on a chair beside the bed, still sleeping peacefully, while the cradle lay overturned on the floor!  It was humanly speaking impossible to explain how she had escaped being hurt by the fall, or who had put her on the chair.  They only solution seemed to be that her Guardian Angel had taken care of her.  But though our good Angel accompanies us everywhere, there is often a wicked spirit who hover round us trying to make us do wrong.

    One of his first attacks on little Therese was by tempting her to vanity when she was barely three years old.

    She and her sisters had been invited by a friend to spend the day in the country.  Madame Martin told Marie to dress Therese, and to put on her best frock, which had short sleeves.  But on second thought she said:

     “No, put on another frock; it is too cold for her to have bare arms.”

    Therese at once felt the call of temptation.  She wanted very much to wear the best frock, for she said to herself:

    “I should look ever so much prettier with bare arms.”

    But while the bad Angel was whispering thoughts of vanity, her good Angel was speaking gently to her heart, and his voice prevailed.  Therese let herself be dressed without a word.

    She had won her first victory, and her Angel thanked God for the grace given her.
A Printable file of this chapter can be found below.

    But joy was soon turned into sorrow.  After a few weeks, Therese became so ill that it seemed as if God were going to ask for her back again.  No efforts were spared to restore her to health, but human remedies were useless, and even the fervent prayers of her heart-broken mother were for a long time unavailing.  The doctor had given up all hope of saving her life, when suddenly, as if by a miracle, Therese began to grow better, and was soon well enough to be taken into the country, to the little village of Semalle, a few miles from Alencon.

    The worthy peasant family to whose care she was confided consisted of the father, “Daddy Moses,” the mother, and four children.  The mother’s name was Rose, but she was generally called “Little Rose,” because she was so small.

     The baby rapidly grew strong in the bracing country air.  She spent the whole day out of doors.  When her foster-mother was going to work in the fields, she would take Therese with her, snugly tucked into a wheelbarrow filled with hay.  If it was time to milk the cow, she would set off with Therese in her apron, and then, as she needed both hands to work, she would tie her charge securely on the cow’s back!

      This cow was a splendid animal, white with reddish markings, and therefore called “Carrots.” One of these marks was on the tip of her right ear, and made her look quite saucy, especially when she held her head erect, as she did when Therese went for a ride on her back.

      These rides would seem to have brought good results to the cow, for later, when a disease broke out among the cattle, carrying off so many that the villagers were almost ruined, “Carrots” remained unharmed, to the great joy of Daddy Moses and his family.

      Meanwhile Baby Therese was growing more and more attractive.  She was always laughing, and her little face was framed in the prettiest golden curls.  All the village children loved her, and they used often to dance round her in a ring, singing rhymes and kissing her in turns.

      There was one boy of eleven who did not content himself with looking at her: he used to take her in his arms and lift her up to receive the homage of her little courtiers.  That boy is now a priest.

      Once when the children were playing in this way, the old curé of the village came up.  He gazed long and earnestly at Therese, gave her his blessing, praying that she might one day be like her glorious patroness, the great St. Teresa. 

     Then he began to speak to the children about the family of little Therese, about her parents, and her grandfather Martin, an officer in the French army, who had been decorated by Charles X for distinguished services to his country.

      He went on to tell them stories of Madame Martin’s family, the Guérins, who had helped and sheltered priests during the persecution which followed the Revolution in France.  The grandfather of Therese was then only a child of three or four, but he had taken part in the troubles of those sad times.  On one occasion, the little fellow was actually sitting on a trough in which his uncle, a priest, was hiding from the Revolutionary soldiers; but her spread out his toys so solemnly, and seemed so engrossed in them, that the searchers did not even think it worthwhile to get him down.  He used also to accompany his uncle when the latter went round the countryside visiting the people, and the child’s presence disarmed all suspicion as to the identity of the good priest, who was disguised as a peasant. 

    But to return to our story.

    Monsieur and Madame Martin often went out to Semalle to see their baby daughter.  The elder girls, who were at school at the Visitation convent of Le Mans, where there aunt was a nun, were not so fortunate.  They were all the more delighted, therefore, when during the holidays they could make a visit to “Little Rose’s” cottage, the object of their walks.

    There was still greater rejoicing when, on March 11, 1874, Therese came home.  She was then fourteen months old, and was beginning to toddle alone, and to prattle incessantly in baby language.  The whole household welcomed the child, who was to gladden their lives by the charm of her sunny temper and affectionate heart.
There is a printable file of this chapter  below and a coloring picture here.

Saint Therese of the Child Jesus was born at Alencon, in Normandy, on January 2, 1873.  Normandy is a beautiful province in the northwest of France, a land of woods and streams and green pastures. 

On the night of Therese's birth the whole countryside was covered with snow.  It seemed to be an image of her soul, which was never to lose the whiteness of its baptismal innocence.

The parents of Therese, Monsieur and Madame Martin, were fervent Catholics and they welcomed this ninth child as a precious gift from God.  There were already four girls in the family, and four other little ones had died when they were babies. 

The children were all in bed and asleep when Therese was born,  but their father himself  went to wake up the two elder girls to tell them the joyful news.  Marie, aged thirteen, sat up in bed, but Pauline, who was eleven, jumped out at once to run and see the baby.   However, Monsieur Martin told them  both to go to sleep again, promising that they should see her the first thing in the morning.  He did not wake Leonie, who was nine, and still less Celine, who was only three, as he feared they would be too excited. 

When he went back to Madame Martin, he found her praying earnestly.  "I have been asking the same grace for this child as for the others," she said: "that God will choose her for Himself, and above all that her soul may never be souled by mortal sin.  Rather than this, I begged He would take her from us at once, as He took the other children."

Very early next morning the four little girls were clustering round their baby sister.  They spoke in whispers for fear of waking her, but Celine could not long keep quiet.  She climbed on a chair, clapping her hands with little cries of joy, and finally gave the baby a resounding kiss, which, of course, woke her up.  This was greeted with exclamations of delight from the others.

"Oh Mamma," said one, "how pretty she is!  Her eyes are just like bits of sky."

"Oh, she's smiling," said another; "do come and look, Mamma!  She's smiling!"

And a third went into raptures over her tiny hands.

The parents of little Therese wished to have her baptized on the day of her birth, as all her brothers and sisters had been, but to their great regret they had to wait for the arrival of the godfather.  Even one day seemed a long delay to the pious mother as she watched her child with anxious eyes. 

At last, on the morning of January 4, Therese was baptized in the Church of Notre-Dame her eldest sister, Marie, was her godmother, and she received the names of Marie Francoise Therese.
If one wishes to print this chapter you will find the file below.  A coloring picture is also below.

In honor of the 'Little Flower of Jesus' we will be sharing every Wednesday another chapter and a coloring page from the  book called "Little Therese."   It is the life of Saint Therese of Lisieux for Children", by Pere J. Carbonel, S.J., Imprimatur 1925

It is the charming story of her wonderful and holy childhood.

 A very enjoyable  read-aloud book.