Charles de Foucauld's sister lost her baby—this is his letter
How did the saintly hermit comfort his little sister Mimi in that tragic moment?
Editors’ Notes
In 1900, in Nazareth where he was living as a hermit, Charles de Foucauld wrote to his younger sister Marie de Blic (Mimi), who had just lost her seventh child, Régis. He had only lived a few hours—but long enough to be baptised.
While Frère Charles’ letter may be of comfort to those in the same situation as Mimi, it also illustrates the importance of baptising infants as soon as is possible – and not as soon as it is no longer possible.
Although de Foucauld does not state this directly, because very prompt baptism was the norm, it would not have been possible for him to write as he did had the infant not been baptised.
When tragedy strikes, the difference between the promptitude and delay can be eternal, infinite, immeasurable.
On the loss of a baby
Frère Charles de Foucauld
Letter to his sister Mimi
12 February 1900
Translated with headings and some line breaks added by The WM Review
My dear Mimi,
I have just received the telegram sent yesterday. You must feel sorrow at the death of this child, and I feel it too at the thought of yours, but I must confess that I also feel a deep admiration and a joyful amazement full of gratitude, when I think that you, my little sister, you, a humble traveller and pilgrim on earth, are already the mother of a saint. That your child, the one to whom you gave life, is in that beautiful heaven for which we yearn, after which we sigh…
Here he is, in an instant, become the eldest of his brothers and sisters, the eldest of his parents, the eldest of all mortal men: oh! how much wiser he is than the wise! All that we know in riddles, he sees clearly. All that we desire, he enjoys.
The goal we pursue so laboriously, which we would count ourselves fortunate to reach at the cost of a long life of struggles and suffering, he has reached from his very first step. All your other children walk with difficulty towards that heavenly homeland, hoping to reach it, but without certainty, and may yet be excluded from it forever; they will, no doubt, arrive only at the cost of many struggles and sorrows in this life, and perhaps even after a long purgatory: he, this dear little angel, protector of your family, has, with a single sweep of his wings, flown to that homeland and enjoys for eternity the sight of God, of Jesus, of the Holy Virgin, of Saint Joseph, and the infinite happiness of the elect.
How he must love you. Your other children, as well as yourself, can count on such a tender protector. To have a saint in one’s family—what strength! To be the mother of a resident of Heaven—what honour and what joy! I repeat it, I am filled with joyful admiration in thinking of this: Saint Francis’s mother was regarded as blessed because, during her life, she witnessed the canonisation of her son; a thousand times happier are you! You know, with the same certainty as she, that your son is a saint in the heavens.
How grateful he is to you! To your other children, you have given, along with life, the hope of heavenly happiness, as well as a condition marked by many sufferings; to this one, from the very first moment, you have given the reality of the happiness of heaven, without uncertainty, without delay, without any mixture of sorrow.
My dear one, do not be sad; rather, repeat with the Most Holy Virgin: “The Lord has done great things for me. All generations will call me blessed.”
Yes, blessed, because you are the mother of a saint, because the one your womb carried is already, at this moment, radiant with eternal glory.
Frère Charles of Jesus
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The sweetness tempers the sadness. So happy to read this line: "...long enough to be baptised."
My old friend William, 78, autistic, somewhat retarded, died last November. He had close to a Teflon soul -- nothing serious could ever have stuck to it. And a devout Catholic in his own awkward way. When William met Our Lord, all the lights went on for him, now in or approaching an eternity of the Beatific Vision.