The Story of a Soul | Page 4

Portuguese edition of the Autobiography,
these significant words of an eminent Jesuit:
"To the Sacred Memory of Louis Joseph Stanislaus Martin and of Zélie
Guérin, the blessed parents of Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus, for an
example to all Christian parents."
They little dreamed of this future apostolate, nevertheless they made
ready their souls day by day to be God's own instruments in God's good
time. With most loving resignation they greeted the many crosses
which the Lord laid upon them--the Lord whose tender name of Father
is truest in the dark hour of trial.
Every morning saw them at Mass; together they knelt at the Holy Table.
They strictly observed the fasts and abstinences of the Church, kept
Sunday as a day of complete rest from work in spite of the

remonstrance of friends, and found in pious reading their most
delightful recreation. They prayed in common--after the touching
example of Captain Martin, whose devout way of repeating the Our
Father brought tears to all eyes. Thus the great Christian virtues
flourished in their home. Wealth did not bring luxury in its train, and a
strict simplicity was invariably observed.
"How mistaken are the great majority of men!" Madame Martin used
often to say. "If they are rich, they at once desire honours; and if these
are obtained, they are still unhappy; for never can that heart be satisfied
which seeks anything but God."
Her whole ambition as a mother was directed to Heaven. "Four of my
children are already well settled in life," she once wrote; "and the
others will go likewise to that Heavenly Kingdom--enriched with
greater merit because the combat will have been more prolonged."
Charity in all its forms was a natural outlet to the piety of these simple
hearts. Husband and wife set aside each year a considerable portion of
their earnings for the Propagation of the Faith; they relieved poor
persons in distress, and ministered to them with their own hands. On
one occasion Monsieur Martin, like a good Samaritan, was seen to raise
a drunken man from the ground in a busy thoroughfare, take his bag of
tools, support him on his arm, and lead him home. Another time when
he saw, in a railway station, a poor and starving epileptic without the
means to return to his distant home, he was so touched with pity that he
took off his hat and, placing in it an alms, proceeded to beg from the
passengers on behalf of the sufferer. Money poured in, and it was with
a heart brimming over with gratitude that the sick man blessed his
benefactor.
Never did he allow the meannesses of human respect to degrade his
Christian dignity. In whatever company he might be, he always saluted
the Blessed Sacrament when passing a Church; and he never met a
priest without paying him a mark of respect. A word from his lips
sufficed to silence whosoever dared blaspheme in his presence.
In reward for his virtues, God showered even temporal blessings on His

faithful servant. In 1871 he was able to give up his business as a
jeweller, and retire to a house in the Rue St. Blaise. The making of
point-lace, however, begun by Madame Martin, was still carried on.
In that house the "Little Flower of Jesus" first saw the sunshine. Again
and again, in the pages of her Autobiography, she calls herself by this
modest name of the _Little Flower,_ emblematic of her humility, her
purity, her simplicity, and it may be added, of the poetry of her soul.
The reader will learn in the Epilogue how it was also used by one of her
favourite martyr-saints--the now Blessed Théophane Vénard. On the
manuscript of her Autobiography she set the title: _"The Story of the
Springtime of a little white Flower,"_ and in truth such it was, for long
ere the rigours of life's winter came round, the Flower was blossoming
in Paradise.
It was, however, in mid-winter, January 2, 1873, that this ninth child of
Louis Martin and Zélie Guérin was born. Marie and Pauline were at
home for the Christmas holidays from the Visitation Convent at Le
Mans, and though there was, it is true, a slight disappointment that the
future priest was still denied them, it quickly passed, and the little one
was regarded as a special gift from Heaven. Later on, her beloved
Father delighted in calling her his "Little Queen," adding at times the
high-sounding titles--"Of France and Navarre."
The Little Queen was indeed well received that winter's morning, and
in the course of the day a poor waif rang timidly at the door of the
happy home, and presented a paper bearing the following simple
stanza:
"Smile and swiftly grow; All beckons thee to joy, Sweet love, and
tenderest