Don't let your defects and imperfections nor even your more serious falls, take you away from God. A weak child, if he is wise, tries to keep near his Father.
One pinprick. And another. And another. Suffer them, man! Don't you see that you are so little that in your life--in your way--you can offer him only those little crosses?
When a child-like soul tells our Lord of his desires to be forgiven, he can be sure that he will soon see those desires fulfilled. Jesus will tear away from that soul the filthy tail that it drags in punishment for its past offenses. He will remove the dead weight, that residue from all its impurities, which keeps it tied to the ground. He will cast far away all the earthly ballast of that child's heart, so that he may rise up, even to the majesty of God, to be dissolved in that living flame of love.
That discouragement produced by your repeated lack of generosity, by your relapses, by your falls--perhaps only apparent--often makes you feel as if you had broken something of exceptional value: your sanctification. Don't be worried: bring to your supernatural life the wise way simple children have of resolving such a conflict. They have broken--nearly always through frailty--an object that is dear to their father. They're sorry, perhaps they shed tears, but they go to seek consolation from the owner of what has been damaged through their awkwardness; and their father forgets the value--great though it may be--of the broken object and, filled with tenderness, he not only pardons, but consoles and encourages the little one. Learn.
You are distracted in prayer. Try to avoid distractions, but don't worry if in spite of everything you're still distracted. Don't you see how in ordinary life even the most considerate children play with everything around them, and often pay no attention to what their father says? This does not imply a lack of love, or respect: it's the weakness and littleness proper to a child. Look then: you are a child before God.
When you pray keep the distracting ideas moving, just as if you were a policeman on traffic duty; that's why you have the energetic willpower your life of childhood has given you. But now and then you may retain some such thought for a while to commend to God those who inopportunely have come to your mind. And then, on your way again, and so, until the time is up. When you pray like this, though you may feel you are wasting time, rejoice and believe that you have succeeded in pleasing Jesus.
How good it is to be a child! When a man asks a favor, his request must be backed by an account of his achievements. When it is a child who asks--since children have no achievements--it is enough for him to say: I am a son of such and such a man. Ah, Lord--(tell him with all your soul)--I am a child of God.
To persevere. A child knocking at a door, knocks once, twice... many times... and loud and long--shamelessly! And the anger of whoever comes to open is dispelled by the simplicity of the disturbing little creature. So it is with you and God.
Work tires you physically and leaves you unable to pray. But you're always in the presence of your Father. If you can't speak to him, look at him every now and then like a little child... and he'll smile at you.
You think there is something wrong because, in your thanksgiving after Communion, the first thing you find yourself doing, without being able to help it, is asking: Jesus, give me this; Jesus, this soul; Jesus, that undertaking? Don't worry, and don't try to force yourself; when the father is good and the child is simple and fearless, haven't you seen how the little lad puts his hand into his father's pocket, looking for candy, before greeting him with a kiss? Well, then...
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