On this feast day of my favorite saint (sorry Ignatius!) a reflection from My Life with the Saints, on Thérèse Martin.

On January 2, 1873, Marie Francoise Thérèse Martin is born in Alençon, France, to Louis and Zélie Martin, two devout Catholic parents. Louis, a watchmaker, had earlier in his life presented himself to a monastery but was refused permission, because of his lack of knowledge of Latin. Zélie was similarly rejected by a local order of nuns called the Sisters of the Hôtel Dieu; she becomes, instead, a lacemaker. But the couple’s intense love for Catholicism and for religious life will be passed on to their children.

When Thérèse is four her mother dies. Shortly afterwards, the family moves from Alençon to Lisieux. As a young girl Thérèse leads a cosseted existence, living under the loving care of her devoted father and being treated with great tenderness by her four older sisters. By most accounts Thérèse is her father’s favorite daughter. (Indeed, in some biographies the young Thérèse is portrayed as a spoiled little girl.) 

Perhaps because of this supportive environment Thérèse is a sunny child and a naturally religious one as well. “I loved God very much,” she would later write about this period, “and offered my heart to him very often.” She is attracted to almost any expression of religiosity: the First Communion of her sister Céline she describes as “one of the most beautiful days in my life.” 

As early as the age of two, Thérèse discovers within herself the desire to be a nun. Her two sisters’ entrance to the Carmelite monastery in Lisieux only intensifies her desire to enter a religious order. Faced with the sad prospect of having to wait until the age of 16 to enter the monastery, an adolescent Thérèse travels to Rome with her father to petition the pope for a special dispensation to enter earlier. Her request is granted a few months later by the local bishop, and Thérèse enters the “Carmel” on April 9, 1888, at age 15.      

Her life within the monastery walls is short and uneventful: “lacking in outward drama,” as Robert Ellsberg says in his book All Saints. Within a year of entrance she receives her habit. The next year she officially enters the novitiate and is assigned to care for the refectory and sweep the corridors. In 1890 she makes her profession of the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. In 1891 she is named aid to the sacristan. In 1893 she paints a fresco in the oratory, and is named “second portress,” that is, assistant doorkeeper.    

In 1894, on the morning of Good Friday, Thérèse awakes to find her mouth full of blood. Though she had been praying ardently that she might be accepted for missionary service in far-off Vietnam, Thérèse rejoices that she will soon be in heaven. 

Yet the onset of tuberculosis will prove not a quick and painless journey to heaven, but rather three years of intense suffering.  During this same year, her father will die, and she will also be asked by her superior to write what would become her spiritual testimony. She titles it Springtime Story of a Little White Flower Written by Herself and Dedicated to Mother Mary Agnes of Jesus. 

It is this book that will ultimately draw millions of believers to Jesus, through Thérèse. The life lacking in outward drama is revealed to be full of inward drama. Surprisingly, she describes a powerful call to the priesthood: “I would like to perform the most heroic deeds. I feel I have the courage of a Crusader. I should like to die on the battlefield in defense of the church. If only I were a priest!” Thérèse devotes herself to prayer (especially for priests) and to the service of God in the monastery. She suffers small indignities at the hands of her sisters, striving to be as generous as possible even during her illness, always offering all of her “little” efforts to the God with whom she fell in love as a girl. Her book reveals both the pain and joy that accompany a life of faith.

As Thérèse continues writing, her physical condition deteriorates. The last few chapters are written during a period of extreme suffering. On September 30, 1897, at the age of 24, she dies. Her last words are “Oh, I love Him…My God…I love you.”

But even at her death, the ever-dedicated disciple considers her work unfinished. There is so much more to do, by way of intercession for those she leaves behind: “After my death I will let fall a shower of roses. I will spend my heaven in doing good on earth.” 

Two years after her death, her spiritual autobiography is published as Story of a Soul in a sanitized version by her sisters. The work is first passed privately among Carmelite convents but it eventually reaches the outside world, where its success surprises almost everyone. As a result of her “Springtime Story,” Thérèse will become one of the most popular saints in the church—her story captivating, her example inspiring, and her “Little Way” accessible to millions of believers.