The Little Wet Bird
Jesus, O Jesus, if the desire
of loving You is so delightful, what will it be to possess and enjoy this
Love?
How can a soul as imperfect as mine aspire to the possession
of the plenitude of Love? Oh Jesus, my first and only Friend, You whom I love UNIQUELY, explain this mystery to me! Why do You not reserve these great
aspirations for great souls, for the Eagles
that soar in the heights?
I look upon myself as a weak
little bird, with only a light down as covering. I am not an eagle, but I have only an eagle’s EYES AND HEART. In spite of my extreme littleness I still
dare to gaze upon the Diving Sun, the Sun of Love, and my heart feels within it
all the aspirations of an Eagle.
The little bird wills to
fly toward the bright Sun that attracts its eye, imitating its brothers,
the eagles, whom it sees climbing up toward the Divine Furnace of the Holy
Trinity. But alas! the only thing it can
do is raise its little wings; to fly
is not within its little power!
What then will become of it? Will it die of sorrow at seeing itself so
weak? Oh no! the little bird will not
even be troubled. With bold surrender,
it wishes to remain gazing upon its Diving Sun.
Nothing will frighten it, neither wind nor rain, and if dark clouds come
and hide the Star of Love, the little bird will not change its place because it
knows that beyond the clouds its bright Sun still shines on and that its
brightness is not eclipsed for a single instant.
At times the little bird’s heart is assailed by the storm,
and it seems it should believe in the existence of no other thing except the
clouds surrounding it; this is the moment of perfect joy for the poor
little weak creature. And what joy
it experiences when remaining there just the same! And gazing at the Invisible Light
which remains hidden from its faith!
O Jesus, up until the present moment I can understand Your
love for the little bird because it has not strayed far from You. But I know and so do You that very often the
imperfect little creature, while remaining in its place (that is, under the
Sun’s rays), allows itself to be somewhat distracted from its sole
occupation. It picks up a piece of grain
on the right or on the left; it chases after a little worm; then coming upon a
little pool of water, it wets its feathers still hardly formed. It sees and attractive flower and its little
mind is occupied with this flower. In a
word, being unable to soar like the eagles, the poor little bird is taken up
with the trifles of earth.
And yet after all these misdeeds, instead of going and
hiding away in a corner, to weep over its misery and to die of sorrow, the
little bird turns toward its beloved Sun, presenting its wet wings to its
beneficent rays. It cries like a swallow
and in its sweet song it recounts in detail all its infidelities, thinking in
the boldness of its full trust that it will acquire in even greater fullness
the love of Him who came to call not
the just but sinners. And even if the
Adorable Star remains deaf to the plaintive chirping of the little creature,
even if it remains hidden, well, the little one will remain wet, accepting its
numbness from the cold and rejoicing in its suffering which it knows it
deserves.
O Jesus, Your little
bird is happy to be weak and little. What would become of it if it were big? Never would it have the boldness to appear in
Your presence, to fall asleep in
front of You. Yes, this is still one of
the weaknesses of the little bird: when it wants to fix its gaze upon the
Divine Sun, and when the clouds prevent it from seeing a single ray of that
Sun, in spite of itself, its little eyes close, its little head is hidden
beneath its wing, and the poor little thing falls asleep, believing all the
time that it is fixing its gaze upon its Dear Star. When it awakens, it doesn’t feel desolate;
its little heart is at peace and it begins once again its work of love.
It calls upon the angels and saints who rise like eagles before the
consuming Fire, and since this is the object of the little bird’s desire the
eagles take pity on it, protecting and defending it, and putting to flight at
the same time the vultures who want to devour it. These vultures are the demons whom the little
bird doesn’t fear, for it is not destined to be their prey but the prey of the Eagle
whom it contemplates in the center of the Sun of Love.
O Divine Word! You are the Adored Eagle whom I love and who
alone attracts me! Coming into this land of exile, You willed to
suffer and to die in order to draw
souls to the bosom of the Eternal Fire of the Blessed Trinity. Ascending once again to the Inaccessible
Light, henceforth Your abode, You remain still in this “valley of tears,”
hidden beneath the appearances of a white host. Eternal Eagle, You desire to nourish me with
Your divine substance and yet I am but a poor little thing who would return to
nothingness if Your divine glance did not give me life from one moment to the
next.
O Jesus, allow me in my boundless gratitude to say to You
that Your love reaches unto folly. In the presence of this folly, how can You
not desire that my heart leap toward You?
How can my confidence, then, have any limits? Ah! the saints have committed their follies for You, and they have done
great things because they are eagles.
Jesus, I am too little to perform great actions, and my own folly is this: to trust that Your Love
will accept me as a victim. My folly consists in begging the eagles, my
brothers, to obtain for me the favor of flying toward the Sun of Love with the Divine Eagle’s own wings!
As long as you desire it, O my Beloved, Your little bird
will remain without strength and without wings and will always stay with its
gaze fixed upon You. It wants to be fascinated by Your divine glance. It wants to become the prey of Your Love. One day I
hope that You, the Adorable Eagle, will come to fetch me, Your little bird; and
ascending with it to the Furnace of Love, You will plunge it for all eternity
into the burning Abyss of this Love to which it has offered itself as victim.
Oh Jesus! why can’t I tell all little souls how unspeakable is Your condescension? I feel that if You found a soul weaker and
littler than mine, which is impossible, You would be pleased to grant it still
greater favors, provided it abandoned itself with total confidence to Your
Infinite Mercy. But why do I desire to
communicate Your secrets of Love, O Jesus, for was it not You alone who taught
them to me, and can You not reveal them to others? Yes, I know it, and I beg You to do it. I beg You to cast Your Divine glance upon a
great number of little souls. I beg You to choose a legion of little Victims worthy of Your LOVE!
The very little Sister Therese of the Child Jesus
and the Holy Face, unworthy
Carmelite religious.
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