Did you know that Saint Thérèse was tall? 

She was 5’10”, and was referred to by visitors to the Carmelite cloister in Lisieux as “the tall sister.” I think many assume, as I myself did, that just because we call her “the little flower” that must mean that she was also petite. 

This is not the only misconception about Saint Thérèse. In fact, her biological sisters did their best to intentionally twist our impression of Thérèse. Many of the images we see, which were assembled by the Martin girls after the death of Saint Thérèse, were doctored to fit the French ideal of holiness at the turn of the century. The face of Saint Thérèse in these paintings is thin; her lips and cheeks are pink; her hands are delicate (The Hidden Face: A Study of St. Therese of Lisieux, p. 25-27).

As a result, many, myself included, have made the mistake of writing off Saint Thérèse as the girly goody-two-shoes of the Catholic Church. However, this little flower has a center of steel, and her rose petals hide thorns of suffering that prove the efficacy of her little way.

Young Audacity

From a young age, Thérèse, while an earnest child, carried an audacity within her that would have shocked us all. Instructed by her holy family on the importance of sacrifice and prayer, the young Thérèse decided that she wanted to convert souls through her prayers as well. Her choice of holy victim? A murderer. The little girl would offer all her little sufferings for the conversion of this man, and, on the day of his execution, she stole her father’s newspaper to read about her “son’s” final moments, in which he kissed the crucifix (Story of a Soul, p. 54-56).

Thus runs the holy audacity of Saint Thérèse, in which she, the little child of God, demands, begs, asks, and is given. Just like the old woman in the Bible, who is rewarded because of her persistence (see Luke 18:1-8), Thérèse bangs on the gates of Heaven and earth alike. 

When denied entrance to the monastery of Carmel because of her age, Thérèse went to the bishop, and then to the pope himself, to plead her case. Could you imagine going to ask the pope for something because you were told no? While in Rome, this fifteen-year-old slipped away from the tour group, climbed under the barriers, and scrambled through the ruins looking for the places where the martyrs died (The Hidden Face, p. 157, Story of a Soul, p. 75).

She was bold. She was persistent. She was very unlike the demurely smiling image we see so often. 

Strength of Faith

Once she entered Carmel, Thérèse did her best to remove from herself any childishness. She refused to treat the novice mistress as a nanny or mother figure. Simultaneously, she was developing her spiritual path of holy childhood, the “little way.” 

In turn-of-the-century France, Saint Thérèse’s message of God’s mercy was directly opposed to the popular prominent heresy of Jansenism. So many were affected by this heresy, believing that they were corrupted beyond repair, unworthy to receive the sacraments, except when necessary—at Easter. They believed God to be judge and executioner, that what mattered was the quantity of their good deeds. 

Saint Thérèse, with her message of mercy and love, would have been like a salmon swimming upstream. The strength of her faith, and her willingness to speak about such a radical idea against so much opposition, is rarely talked about. 

A Father’s Love

After Saint Thérèse entered the convent, her only remaining parent, her best friend, mentor, and confidant, was struck ill with a painful and humiliating mental illness. Imagine entering the convent and, directly afterward, having your father seem to lose his mental faculties. So many blamed the shock of Saint Thérèse’s entrance to the convent. So many pointed to the trigger of his youngest daughter entering a cloistered convent as the reason for Louis Martin’s mental decline. 

Saint Thérèse, through this burden, suffered in silence and clung to the belief that she was doing God’s will. Even though the world told her that her father’s illness was her fault, she clung to her faith in God and His plan. Miraculously, her father was able to attend Saint Thérèse’s reception of the habit, a beautiful, snowy day on which the world and Saint Thérèse were dressed in white. 

A month later, Saint Louis Martin had a relapse and was forced to enter a mental hospital due to his delusions and disordered thoughts. This struggle with mental health is rarely talked about, yet it proves the holiness and efficacy of Saint Thérèse’s little way far better than rose petals. 

Courage in the Darkness

At the end of her life, Saint Thérèse entered a dark night of the soul. The Carmelite mystic, Saint John of the Cross, writes in his poem “The Dark Night of the Soul”: 

That light guided me
More surely than the noonday sun
To the place where He was waiting for me,
Whom I knew well,
And where none appeared.

After having been led by God her whole life, following “the light” which “guided” her and gave her so much for so long, Saint Thérèse was left in darkness (Story of a Soul, p. 173). 

Not only that, but the Saint was dying of tuberculosis, a disease that literally ate through one of her lungs. Needless to say, it was extremely painful, as was the treatment available in France at the time. In an age before antibiotics, Saint Thérèse was injected with mercury. Scholars believe that the Saint died from tuberculosis, yes, but also from mercury poisoning. 

Faithful to the End

She was faithful to the end. Going so far as to write the creed out in blood, Saint Thérèse was courageous in the midst of this great darkness. Though often written off as the “girly Saint,” know that this little flower has a stem of steel—one who said at the end of her life, “I do not regret surrendering myself to love” (Story of a Soul, p. 175). 

Dear readers, though the little acts of faithfulness that are the bread and butter of the little way may seem small, know that, like Saint Thérèse, they contain a core of iron. The little way is hard, our daily duty is exhausting, and our suffering is so often done in silence. In these times, pray to the little flower, who not only knows your pain but has the audacity to storm Heaven for you, the faith to inspire yours, and the courage to help you cross the finish line.