committed to live “in the world” because of her marriage. But there is also a more delicate shock to recount: the prior evening, Louis had to explain to her “the things of life,” as they used to say for modesty’s sake—that is to say, the facts about sexuality, which Zélie had been perfectly ignorant of. It’s an ignorance we find astounding in our age, but it was quite common at that time.
One can easily imagine Zélie’s difficulty in absorbing these sudden revelations, a difficulty which could also explain her tears the following day. This is the point at which Louis—with an uncommon sensitivity—proposed that they live as brother and sister. The reasons for this proposition were not only the respect he had for his wife but also his aspiration to be a saint. He had studied the issue of virginity in marriage and his notebooks contain several texts on the validity of marriages that are not consummated, with Mary and Joseph being the perfect example. For these young people who had dreamed of consecrating themselves to God at a time when the perfection of virginity was highly praised by the Church, this seemed to be the solution: to marry, but to live in the marriage like religious.
We can smile at this plan today, but we need to understand the generosity and respect for the other that underlies it. Speaking in euphemistic words about this choice when she told Pauline about her first day of marriage, Zélie commented: “Your father understood me and comforted me the best he could since he had inclinations that were similar to mine. I believe our mutual affection was even more increased through this, and we were always united in our feelings.”10 Louis and Zélie had an experience of chastity similar to that of young people today who are chaste before marriage, and they testify by what followed to the solidity that such a choice produced in them as a couple. During this period, Zélie wrote to her sister how happy she was. They lived as brother and sister for ten months, meanwhile opening themselves up to life by taking in for a time a small boy that a recently widowed and overwhelmed father had entrusted to them. It was a time of maturation for them as a couple and of better understanding their vocation.
Little by little, Louis and Zélie discovered that their marriage—far from being a replacement by God for the failure of their plans to consecrate themselves—was their true calling, to be lived out fully. When their confessor invited them to set a time to end their abstinence, they were ready to accept it. The arrival of children confirmed them even more in their vocation: “When we had our children, our ideas changed a bit; we lived only for them; they were all our joy, and we never found our joy except in them. Nothing was too costly for us to do for them; the world was no longer a burden.”11 The one who would exclaim that she was “made to have children” maintained a great respect, as did her husband, for religious life but had no regrets. “Oh! I do not regret getting married,” she told her brother.12
God oriented their desire for holiness toward the state in life in which they would blossom the most: marriage, and in particular parenthood. Louis and Zélie recognized God’s call to have many children and—in their lovely phrase—“to raise them for heaven.”13 Contrary to their initial ideas, it was not in spite of marriage but in and through marriage that they were to become holy.
The couple they became was based on a solid friendship full of tenderness and cooperation that the years only served to deepen. After five years of marriage, Zélie wrote: “I am still very happy with him; he makes life very pleasant. My husband is a holy man, and I wish that all women could have such husbands.”14 Whenever Zélie talked to someone about her husband, she couldn’t help always adding the same adjective, “my good Louis.” It’s a small word, but it sheds a lot of light on their relationship. More than friendship, however, one can see the enormous place they had in each other’s hearts through the feeling of loss they experienced when they were occasionally separated. The letters they wrote to each other at those times demonstrated all the vibrancy of a love full of tenderness. Away on a trip with the children to visit her brother and his wife, Zélie wrote:
The children are delighted, and if the weather were good they would be at the height of happiness. But as for me, I find relaxation difficult! None of all that interests me! I am absolutely like a fish out of water that is not in its element and must perish! If my trip were to be prolonged, it would have that same effect for me. I’m uncomfortable and out of sorts, which affects my body and I’m almost sick because of it. Meanwhile, I try to reason with myself and rally from the sickness. I follow you in spirit all day long; I say to myself, “He is doing this or that right now.” I am longing to be near you, my dear Louis. I love you with all my heart, and my affection for you is increasing because I am deprived of your presence; it would be impossible for me to live apart from you…. I embrace you and I love you.”15
Does this sound like the excitement of a young married woman in love? Not in this case. This letter was written after fifteen years of marriage. Louis had become Zélie’s “element.” And when Louis in turn had to leave home for business, he wrote with his characteristic thoughtfulness:
My dear Friend, I cannot come back to Alençon until Monday. The time seems long to me, and I’m eager to be near you. I don’t need to tell you that your letter brought me great pleasure, except that I see you’re tiring yourself out too much. So I recommend calm and moderation, especially in your work. I have a few orders from the Lyons Company. Once again, don’t worry so much; we will end up, with God’s help, at having a nice little business. I was happy to receive communion at Notre-Dame des Victoires, which is like a little earthly paradise. I also lit a candle there for the whole family. I embrace you with all my heart while I await the joy of being reunited to you. I hope that Marie and Pauline are being very good! Your husband and true friend, who loves you for life.16
These rare letters reveal a cooperation that withstood the years and the minor difficulties that we can sometimes read between the lines. “When you receive this letter, I will be busy rearranging your work bench, so don’t get mad,” Zélie once wrote. “I will lose nothing, not an old square piece, not the end of a spring, nothing. And then it will be clean all over! You will not be able to say, ‘You only shifted the dust around’ because there will not be any…. I embrace you with all my heart; I am so happy today at the thought of seeing you again that I cannot work. Your wife, who loves you more than her own life.”17 The last words Zélie ever wrote to Louis were, “I am all yours.”18
Her letters and the testimony of her daughters let us see the kind of wife she was: joyful, lively, tender, open to everyone, confident of her husband, and full of humor, with a special gift for making fun of herself. The contrast is striking in terms of how she perceived herself as anguished, depressed, and far from holy. Anguish was present throughout her whole life, and she affirmed at times it was a veritable torment for her. When trials became too heavy, she let herself be overcome by what she called “dark thoughts,” but more and more her faith and the supportive presence of Louis helped her to overcome her suffering.
Zélie was a strong and holy woman not because she was without fears and weaknesses, but because despite them she gave of herself generously to others and to God, with a trust that was always wholehearted. Her great sensitivity gave her an exquisite discernment about others. Moreover, she was a woman of action. She worked for her family and in her business without letup and without taking time to coddle herself. Sensing within the need to give herself permanently, she responded with so much generosity that she died with her needle in her hand, so to speak, without ever having the least bit of rest.
