I felt that if
my baby died and I ever stood before God to be judged I should judge Him
in return. I should ask Him why, if He were Almighty, He permitted the
evil in the world to triumph over the good, and if He were our heavenly
Father why He allowed innocent children to suffer? Was there any _human_
father who could be so callous, so neglectful, so cruel, as that?
I dare say it was a terrible thing to bring God to the bar of judgment,
to be judged by His poor weak ignorant creature; but it was also
terrible to sit with a dying baby on my lap (I thought mine was dying),
and to feel that there was nothing--not one thing--I could do to relieve
its sufferings.
My faith went down like a flood during the heavy hours of that day--all
that I had been taught to believe about God's goodness and the
marvellous efficacy of the Sacraments of His Church.
I thought of the Sacrament of my marriage, which the Pope told me had
been sanctioned by my Redeemer under a natural law that those who
entered into it might live together in peace and love--and then of my
husband and his brutal infidelities.
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