With one last embrace she tore herself away from all her loved ones. The girl was entering the Conceptionist monastery of the city to serve God and Mary, in prayer, contemplation and penitence. Her father, the Viscount de Brouillard d’Or, was an upright man and a fine Catholic who credited the family name with his virtue, kind manners, and dignity. So, despite feeling a pang of sorrow, he was proud to have a daughter enter the cloister, to dedicate herself to a life of holiness and service to the Church.
After the Mass of reception into the community and the final farewells, the novice stepped into the cloister and the gate was closed. Her relatives returned home, dabbing tears from their eyes, touched to see someone so close to them become a spouse of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
A week later, a housemaid, made a simple announcement:
“Sir Viscount, a package has arrived. It appears to be from your youngest daughter.”
“Do let me see it.”
The bundle was very neatly wrapped and came with an envelope.
The viscount immediately recognized the writing of his dear Renée. “Most certainly it is from her,” he concluded with a smile. He kept his feelings in check, maintaining his unswerving patriarchal bearing, and undid the wrapping to uncover a simple, beautiful and delicate statue of the Immaculate Conception. The envelope contained a letter written in his daughter’s hand.
“Hal Mary most pure, conceived without sin! Beloved father, I fully understand that last’s week’s sacrifice cost you dearly. I have no words to express how happy I am to be embarking on my vocation! Dear Papa, whenever feelings of absence tug at the heart, let us have recourse to Our Lady, and we will meet again in her Heart. I send you this gift to make your prayer easier. With the tender love of your daughter who is always praying for you before our Immaculate Mother, Renée.”
As he folded the letter, the viscount could not keep his emotion from brimming over, as was only natural, especially since he was quite alone at the moment.
The little statue was made of bisque porcelain. The Virgin stood on a cloud, surround by winged cherubs with halos.
He looked around for a place to put it. Its deep symbolic value led him to choose a prominent spot on a table in his office, between two armchairs. He always received visitors in this room, so he could easily show the statue to anyone who showed an interest, and tell them of its origin.
One day, a renowned figure, the Marquis de Sur-La-Montagne paid a visit to the Viscount de Brouillard d’Or.
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise! Come, my friend, let us enjoy a chat,” prompted the viscount as he steered the marquis toward the comfortable armchairs.
“What a pleasure to see you in such fine health!” exclaimed the visitor. “Tell, my friend, how are your dear children? What is new since the last time we met?”
The host began to tell the household news: His eldest son had married and moved to the neighbouring city; his second son had also married; his oldest daughter was engaged, and his next had just become a nun; the youngest son had been deeply inspired by her example and was now contemplating the priesthood…
“And what a charming little statue! Where did you buy it?”
“Ah, marquis, I did not acquire it in a shop! It was my daughter Renée who gave it to me.”
And, with a wealth of detail, he began telling how his daughter had discovered her religious vocation, how she had asked his permission, and how she had entered the monastery.
“How marvellous indeed! Your family is so blessed!”
“And you, my friend!” said the viscount. “Tell me about your parents and brothers, and the lady Marchioness! How are your children? I have not seen them since they were young. Do you recall the youngsters playing together in the countryside?”
“Yes, those were good times…”
Then his friend began to narrate the last decades of his life. Poor man! What a difference of circumstances! His tale was quite tragic; he had been through one disaster after another. The viscount, being such a refined and courteous man, listened and responded to each dramatic episode with utmost sympathy. The marquis, however, despite his noble birth, was far from having developed his friend’s level of self control. Delving more deeply into his story, he became agitated, and on a nervous impulse he seized the little side table. The viscount’s heart jumped. He leaned forward and watched tensely, fearing what might happen…
As the conversation continued, the marquis suddenly picked up the little statue by is base. Wincing, the viscount said to himself: “I hope he does not touch the statue itself; it is so delicate!” No sooner had he formed the thought than the marquis grasped one of the angel wings and distractedly snapped it off. “Oh no…” groaned the viscount inwardly.
The marquis did not so much as notice the mishap. Engrossed in what he was saying, he took the broken piece and absently deposited it into a decorative dish on the same table. By the end of the conversation, with a series of little “snaps”, the Marquis de Sur-la-Montagne had deftly plucked off all the fragile cherub wings!
The Viscount de Brouillard d’Or breathed not a word of reproach, nor did he draw any attention to his friend’s embarrassing blunder. When the visit was over, he kindly accompanied the Marquis, now much comforted, outside, showing him every mark of esteem. He saw him into the carriage, and affably bade him farewell as the coachman cracked his whip and the horses picked up speed, finally driving out of sight over the horizon.
Only after he was gone did the viscount return to the house, pick up the statue, gather up all the little wings and say: “Today this statue has acquired special significance. It was precious to be because it was a gift to me from my Conceptionist daughter, but now will always stand as a symbol, for me, of a sacrifice God gave me the grace to offer up with patience, for the good of an old friend!” And he came to a decision: “I shall put it in the cabinet that displays the family keepsakes.”
He turned the key to the display case and gently placed the damaged sculpture in the centre, as the most precious object. At its base he set the dish of broken wings, as if to perpetually offer the memory of his sacrifice to the Immaculate Conception. Looking intently at Her gentle face, he concluded: “This is the symbol of a moment of keen anguish which God gave me the strength to withstand! I ask Mary Most Holy to help me always to place at Her feet all the renunciations that She may ask of me, so that I may become Her perfect son.”
If we were to heed this lesson of the Viscount de Brouillard d’Or and apply it to our daily lives, it would transform our way of treating others, and make us more like Him who died on the Cross to save us.◊
