th this love, dear
Mother, that I love you and my sisters. I am glad to fight beside
you for the glory of the King of Heaven, but I am ready to go to
another battlefield, did the Divine Commander but express a wish.
An order would not be necessary: a simple look, a sign, would
suffice.

Ever since I came to the Carmel I have thought that if Our Lord
did not take me quickly to Heaven, my lot would be that of Noe's
dove, and that one day he would open the window of the Ark and bid
me fly to heathen lands, bearing the olive branch. This thought
has helped me to soar above all created things.

Knowing that even in the Carmel there must be partings, I tried to
make my abode in Heaven; and I accepted not only exile in the
midst of an unknown people, but what was far more bitter, I
accepted exile for my sisters. And indeed, two of them were asked
for by the Carmel of Saigon, our own foundation. For a time there
was serious question of their being sent, and I would not say a
word to hold them back, though my heart ached at the thought of
the trials awaiting them. Now all that is at an end; the superiors
were absolutely opposed to their departure, and I only touched the
cup with my lips long enough to taste of its bitterness.

Let me tell you, dear Mother, why, if Our Lady cures me, I wish to
respond to the call from our Mothers of Hanoi. It appears that to
live in foreign Carmels, a very special vocation is needed, and
many souls think they are called without being so in reality. You
have told me that I have this vocation, and that my health alone
stands in the way. But if I am destined one day to leave this
Carmel, it will not be without a pang. My heart is naturally
sensitive, and because this is a cause of much suffering, I wish
to offer Jesus whatsoever it can bear. Here, I am loved by you and
all the Sisters, and this love is very sweet to me, and I dream of
a convent where I should be unknown, where I should taste the
bitterness of exile. I know only too well how useless I am, and so
it is not for the sake of the services I might render to the
Carmel of Hanoi that I would leave all that is dearest to me--my
sole reason would be to do God's Will, and sacrifice myself for
Him.

And I should not suffer any disappointment, for when we expect
nothing but suffering, then the least joy is a surprise; and later
on suffering itself becomes the greatest of all joys, when we seek
it as a precious treasure.

But I know I sha