October 1, 2026
Memorial of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church
These storybooks are available in reprint from Angelus Press.
In the mid-1940s, while the world was at war, a young Jesuit named Daniel Lord wrote a series of little books about the saints. If you are a Catholic of a certain age, you may remember those colorful illustrations peeking from parish book racks or classroom shelves.
I loved these mini-books. In my pre-teen years, I read them over and over, imagining how I might align my life to some of their stories so that I too might become a saint!
I had favorites that I wanted to imitate, and others whose challenges I definitely preferred to avoid. The stories of the martyrs like Sebastian (of the arrows) and Catherine of Alexandria (of the torture wheel) fascinated me, but did not invite my imitation.
Instead, I thought I might like to be like Elizabeth of Hungary, a queen who carried food to the poor in her luxurious apron. Or maybe like Francis Xavier, who went to the far reaches of the Orient to share the Gospel. Unfortunately, I think I was more attracted by their attire and travelogues than by their call to holiness.
Still, those stories shaped my budding spirituality and left me with a challenge that has endured for eight decades. The challenge? You are called to be a saint. What will your story be? How will that call unfold in your life?
All of my early “storybook” saints led heroic lives. Their stories were full of drama, pathos, and astounding courage – just what a young person craves. I fed on their inspiration to make my early commitment to a faith-directed life.
It was only later that I embraced the quiet saint, Thérèse of Lisieux. She hadn’t attracted me when I was young. Maybe I felt we had nothing in common because I was tall, and she was “Little”. Who knows why a teenage mind chooses one hero and not another?
But in my early twenties – when teenage wishes slowly become grounded hopes and vivid imagination assumes the shape of everyday realities – I was a young nun. And I needed models to teach me the transformation from untested self-confidence to grateful responsibility.
It slowly dawned on me that holiness might be measured less by courageous deeds than by selfless love. As daily scriptural prayer revealed humility’s essential role in holiness, I remembered that little chapbook page about Thérèse.
Later, as I read her autobiography, I realized that although her life was simple, her spirituality was richly complex. She experienced spiritual delight and darkness, each in profound measure. Humble and self-effacing, she was nonetheless fierce in her love, faith, and trust in God.
Meditating on her, I didn’t see a physically delicate, sweet woman who died too young.
- I saw a woman on fire with life and with God, whose soul burned so brightly because surrender to grace kept its flame vibrant.
- I saw a brilliant, though simply educated, mind placed in the service of an even more dazzling soul.
- I saw an acute assessor of humanity reach beyond the obvious for God’s sometimes shrouded presence in every person.
- I saw a martyr who, unlike Sebastian, never bled. I saw a missionary who, unlike Xavier, never sailed.
- I saw a saint whose “Little Way” might work for most of us who lead ordinary, “little” lives.
- Thérèse didn’t live long enough to show us what “The Little Way” would look like when it had aged like fine wine. Those of us who loved Daniel Lord’s books in the 1940s and 50s are tasked with that witness – in a world still at war; in a world still longing for humble mutuality and spiritual courage.
Today, on her feast day, I pray:
Dear Little Flower, please help us on our “way”.
Music: God Is Not In the Sky. Look Inside You. – Interpretation of Rumi
Suggested Scripture: Luke 16:10-14
For Your Reflection:
- What feelings or reactions do I have after reading this reflection?
- Do my feelings or reactions remind me of any passage or event in scripture, especially in the life of Christ?
- What actions might I take today because of my response to these readings?