Our family life will only be conformed to Christ if we truly love one another right down to our very souls, if our natural affection is deepened to such a point by Charity, if we have understood that these natural bonds truly engage our souls, truly engage Christ in their union. Yes, it is a mystical, mysterious, heavenly reality that is involved in this very human reality, a reality which seems sometimes to need heaven so little. When we understand this, heroism penetrates our lives which seem so prosaic, and perfect, evangelical selflessness begins to seep in. The Apostle understood these things well when he said: “Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church.”

Father Calmel (1914-1975)
Dominican

“Quickly, Johan crushed his spouse in his arms: – Oh! Katrina, how I would have loved to stay at least one more day at home, but the boat won’t wait. He left and Katrina saw him race away like a naughty boy and quickly cover the rough path. Before she could catch her breath, he had disappeared. She began to visit what would henceforth be her home. On one side, the thatch-cottage was divided into two dark corners, the entry and a sort of pantry. The rest was one piece. The windows had no curtains and the sills were worm-eaten. The wallpaper was smoky and torn, the ceiling very low and almost black with soot. An iron kettle hung on a tripod in the ashes and a battered coffee pot was hanging on a hook. Katrina glanced in the kettle. A bit of dried gruel, several months old, was stuck to the bottom and a wooden spoon was stuck in it. The coffee pot held stinky, black grounds. Near the door was a miserable wardrobe under which a stone had been pushed to replace the missing foot. On the shelves were dusty and cracked dishes; here and there dry and mouldy bits of bread; a rat showed its nose and then disappeared. In front of the window, an uneven and unbelievably dirty table. In the far corner, a bed, a simple wooden chest with its lid leaned back against the wall and whose interior was the same as Johan had left it. Finally, two chairs and an old vanity with a cracked mirror completed the piece. Katrina sat down. She felt her shoulders weighed down as if under a heavy load, her legs felt like lead, and she had a bitter taste in her mouth. Gathering all her strength, she pulled herself together to put the room in order. But she dragged her legs like an old lady. She saw a wooden bucket and went out to fetch some water. There was no well. She finally found one, a good distance away, on the path. She filled her bucket and she spread the laundry out on the rocks in the sun, then she got out all the cleaning materials and piled them up one on top of another in front of the staircase. She lit a fire with kindling which she found in the bottom of the wooden chest, and started heating the water. Then she washed the dishes, cleaned the furniture and turned it over to dry. She had not found any towels. Then she cleaned the whole house top to bottom, put all the furniture back in place and made the bed. When she had finished she sat down with her hands on her lap and looked around her. There was a little more joy, but how poor it was, how poor it was! She looked out the window. The sun was on the horizon just over the village. What time could it be? An old clock was hanging on the wall, and when it was wound up, it kept time with a noisy, tick-tock. But one had to know what time it was.”

Sally Salminen (1906-1976)
Author of Katrina (a Swedish novel)